


Super-Sleuth

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [24]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel gets some answers to the questions that she hasn't exactly asked; plans are made; PFLAG</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Rachel can’t help but be fascinated by what she’s seeing.

The way Kurt and Noah interact is, she suspects, the way they’ve been interacting in private for what is apparently months now. Not exactly in private, though, either, because clearly Finn is used to it, and the rest of the household.

First of all, there’s the touching. Noah joked about being tactile, but clearly it wasn’t completely a joke, because it’s true. The two of them are helping to get dinner on the table and then sitting next to each other, and in almost constant contact. It’s as if they don’t realize it, actually. Some times it’s Noah initiating and sometimes it’s Kurt, and Rachel wonders if Kurt even realizes that he’s actually using his left hand to eat. His right hand isn’t visible but judging by the position of their shoulders, she’s pretty certain Kurt’s hand and Noah’s hand are clasped around each other.

Then there’s the relaxation. She doesn’t put a name to it until the next day, when it’s gone again. There are lines of tension on Kurt’s face and on Noah’s too, lines that she can’t say she’s ever noticed until there was an evening without them. Thinking back, she can’t remember a time when she didn’t see those lines on either of their faces, and Rachel can’t help but feel a little sad.

Finally, though, there’s the laughter and the genuine smiles, and the sheer ease the two of them have around each other. It’s not remarkably different from the friendship they show to the rest of the world, a friendship that was built slowly over a couple of years. Rachel can’t help but think that with their relationship layered over that friendship, it’s already stronger than most.

It doesn’t hit her until a day or two later that their secret is her responsibility now, too. Noah’s off-hand comment about how many people knew was said almost as a joke, but it’s very real. Even though she was guessing, Noah could have lied. He still trusted her enough to tell her the truth, and Rachel knows she has to make sure he was right to trust her.

 

"David, do you mind if we swing by the choir room before we get to my class?" Casey asks. He looks up at David with big, trusting eyes, because he knows David will get him safely to wherever he needs to go.

"Sure, Case." David doesn't even ask why. It's not because he doesn't seem to care, either. He just seems glad to escort Casey wherever he needs to go. Casey feels warm and happy, despite the pain in his side, and he thinks maybe he's having a Grinch moment. Maybe that's his heart growing. He's had a few moments like that over the last half hour, and it feels good. And sad. And hard.

Casey is nice to everyone, because he doesn't like being mean. It's not right. It doesn't feel good to be mean. It doesn't feel good to have someone _be_ mean. Nice isn't the same as close, though. It's not the same as friendly. Casey doesn't have a lot of friends. He doesn't have a lot of people who are close. People don't touch him much and he definitely doesn't touch them. He used to spend a lot of time worrying that truth was like some kind of disease, and it could be transmitted through touch, like if he hugs someone or even puts his hand on someone's shoulder, they'll _know_. All about him. All his truth.

Every PFLAG meeting feels like a new bubble of joy rising up inside him. He isn't alone. Other people like him are out there. People care about him. They care about him enough to want to protect him, even at personal risk to himself. Casey never had that. Not even his mom does that. Casey's always at the bottom of the stack. The crap falls down and nobody steps between it and him, not until now.

So David walks him to the choir room and stands in the doorway like a sentinel while Casey slips quietly to the bulletin board, the one with the big squares with each of the glee kids' names on it. Casey takes the marker lying there and he quickly scribbles two words onto three of the squares.

"Thank you."


	2. Episode 3x08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDB9EB0AE3729D2E1)

Puck smirks a little to himself and stretches when his alarm doesn’t go off on Tuesday morning until 7:15. He gets dressed, grabs his stuff, has time to talk to his mom and sister for a minute, and still make it downstairs by the time Kurt pulls up a little after 7:30. Yeah, they’ve got the Rachel situation to figure out, but at least he’s had a decent amount of sleep for once.

Kurt drives all the way over to Panera, because they have forty-five fucking minutes before they have to be in class, and then they hole up in a corner booth, talking urgently in whispers.

“Finn tried to put her off, of course, but then she told him she was going to talk to Mercedes and Tina,” Kurt explains, groaning. “You know what that would be like.”

Puck’s eyes widen and he nods. “Talk about it getting around to everyone within days.”

“Hours,” Kurt corrects. “And I love Mercedes, you know I do, but I’m not sure she’d worry about whether it was true or not. I mean, it is, obviously, but I’m not sure verification of that fact would bother her a great deal.”

“No, probably not,” Puck agrees. “So what was Finn gonna do?”

“Tell her that we’d talk to her later.” Kurt sighs and his finger traces out random patterns on the table. “Which means we have to figure out something quickly, I guess.”

Puck sighs and leans back against the seat. “I don’t want to lie.”

“I know.”

“You think we could put her off until Thursday? Finn could tell her we need to work on the songwriting stuff at your place. I don’t want to do this where anyone could overhear.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good,” Kurt agrees. “I think that would work. You have to work tomorrow afternoon anyway, and today’s already somewhat packed.”

“Plus it’s Tuesday,” Puck grins.

“Plus it’s Tuesday,” Kurt repeats, smiling. His smile fades a moment later and he makes a little face. “Oh! So before Finn tells me all of that, he had _other_ news he wanted to share with me.”

“Oh no?”

“He wanted to talk about boobs,” Kurt explains, shuddering a little. “Apparently there was over-the-clothing touching of boobs. Something about front boob versus side boob. It was moderately horrifying, but I managed to smile nicely. I think I may have even congratulated him.”

Puck laughs. “Well, it’s good he’s getting something, right?”

“I guess so,” Kurt laughs for a moment. They stand and clear their plates, getting a refill of coffee before they go. Once they’re back in the Nav, Kurt turns to Puck with a little smile. “Apparently one of the things that Rachel cited was your ringtone for me.”

“Oh?” Puck attempts to be casual, but he’s probably flushing a little.

“So if I were to call you right now, what would I hear?” Kurt’s smile gets a little wider.

“Um.”

“Because Finn referred to it as from that movie with Obi-Wan and the singing hookers–”

Puck howls. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” Kurt laughs with him. “I’m not.”

“Fine, fine,” Puck mock-grumbles, and then pulls out his phone, playing Kurt’s ringtone for him. “Happy now?”

Kurt smiles happily and squeezes his hand. “Yes, actually.” He starts the car then and starts to drive to school.

“So... what’s your ringtone for _me_?” Puck asks. “I know they’re all Lady Gaga.” He still has his phone out, so he dials Kurt’s number, grinning when he recognizes the song. “Yeah, okay, between the two of us, that’s probably not very subtle.”

“Were we supposed to be?” Kurt snorts. “Obviously we’ve done fairly poorly at that.”

“Yeah, we do really well sometimes, but...”

“It’s taken me a long time to let my guard down around everyone in glee club,” Kurt nods. “And it’s hard sometimes to put it half-up. But. Most days I’m actually glad they don’t know.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The twelve of us can bring the crazy like no one else.”

When Puck walks into his history class, Sam does a double-take. “Dude.”

“What?” Puck asks, puzzled.

“Your cup.”

“No, Sam, it was called ‘ _My_ Cup,’” Brittany offers from behind Sam.

“What about it?” Puck affects innocence.

“It’s... not from Starbucks,” Sam says, mock-horrified.

“Oh, yeah.” Puck grins. “I didn’t have to work this morning. I woke up at 7:15. It was pretty much bliss.”

“Couldn’t have gotten you up earlier for anything?” Sam jokes.

“I wouldn’t go _quite_ that far,” Puck muses, because he’s pretty sure if Kurt had miraculously appeared in his bed at 5 am, he would have woken up earlier, and happily so.

“If 7:15 is sleeping in, man, you must have been tired,” Finn says, settling into the seat next to Puck. He leans over and says, quietly, “Talked to Rachel. She’s won’t do anything crazy until she talks to you.”

Puck nods his acknowledgment before responding to the first part of Finn’s statement. “Almost the best sleep I’ve had in awhile,” he confirms.

“Do I even wanna know what the _best_ sleep was?” Finn asks, looking at Puck askance.

Puck grins. “If you’re asking the question, I think you already know the answer.”

Finn puts up his hands. “Then we’ll just move right along.”

The teacher starts talking before Puck can needle Finn any further, and he settles for tossing a final smirk in Finn’s direction before writing down a bunch of stuff about civil war in England. Huh. Puck didn’t know they had one of those, too.

 

Rachel doesn’t treat him any differently during English, which is good, because he likes the idea of waiting until Thursday. English class is not exactly the place for the conversation.

“Do you think we’ll be able to finish writing the song this week?” Rachel asks as they walk towards the choir room. “I know Finn said Kurt had written a little more over the weekend. And we need to make sure we have time to practice it.”

Perfect. “Yeah, if we have enough time on Thursday, we should be able to do it.”

Rachel worries at her bottom lip. “But what if Mr. Schue doesn’t let us out of rehearsal with much time before we have to be out of the building?” She looks at Puck with a frown and then brightens. “We could go over to Finn’s house! Kurt’s piano is there and you can bring your guitar.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Puck nods along with her, because damn, how’d that manage to happen?

“Great! I’ll let Finn and Kurt know!”

When they walk into the choir room, it’s clear that Tina’s taking over for the day. “I Gotta Feeling” is written on the whiteboard, and the four members of the arrangements committee are handing out copies of the lyrics as everyone walks in. Some lines are already highlighted in various colors, and there’s a table with more highlighters and a color key set up in the middle of the floor.

“Everyone, read over the lyrics!” Tina calls over the cacophony as Puck shuts the door behind him. “Some of them are already assigned. We’re going to go through and let people claim the ones that are currently highlighted in orange. One, two, or three voices for each of those lines, please!”

There’s a lot of laughing and joking, and Puck’s amused that Tina & Co. have already assigned the “mazel tov” line to he and Rachel–not to mention the “l’chayim” line is listed as for Finn and Kurt.

Kurt claims the “let’s burn the roof” line as well, and it takes most of the period, but they manage to hammer out who will sing which lines, in the midst of the parts they sing as a group.

They have enough time to attempt a run through once, and Mike spends it taking notes for choreography. It’s not until they’re about to head out the door, towards PFLAG, that Puck notices the new piece of paper tacked in his area of the bulletin board. He steps closer and has to laugh–Kurt must’ve gotten Burt to write it out, because it’s definitely Burt’s handwriting.

_I have woven a parachute out of everything broken. ~William Stafford_

Puck grins a little and touches his fingertips to the paper before opening the door and heading down the hall. Kurt’s already in the PFLAG classroom, talking quietly to Ms. Pillsbury, who smiles at Puck before slipping out the door with a promise that she’ll be back in a moment.

“Ms. Pillsbury brought food today,” Kurt says with a nod towards the refreshment table. “Subway.”

“Nice,” Puck nods. “What’s on the gay agenda today?” he grins.

Kurt snorts. “You love that joke.”

“Absolutely.”

“I actually asked Finn if he’d be willing to talk a bit about being an ally. I know that the majority of the people coming are here as allies, so I thought we should speak to that directly.”

“True. Still, six or seven of us, at least.”

“More than I ever thought I’d count here,” Kurt concedes. He sighs. “If I can convince Dad to let me stay, or let me come back early, then in two weeks I’ll do that whole safe sex thing like Schue wants.” He shudders. “Can you imagine doing that with Finn in the room?”

Puck makes a face. “No. He’d start doing that strangling thing, and then keep it up the entire damn time.”

“Exactly.” Kurt shakes his head. “Not to mention the sheer mortification factor. I hate to imagine what comments might come out of his mouth.” Kurt sinks into a chair and props his leg up in the one next to it, smirking a little. “Some people wouldn’t dare sit on my leg.”

Puck laughs and sits down in the next seat over. “Let’s hope not, anyway.”

Most of the rest of glee club comes in at once, sorting themselves out around the circle of chairs, followed by the underclassmen, including Brown, who sits near the door this time. Beiste comes in with Rickenbacker, and Puck frowns a little when he notices almost everyone, including Karofsky, is there, but not Casey.

Finn also seems to notice Casey’s absence, because he exchanges a look with Kurt. Kurt raises an eyebrow but shrugs, and Puck angles his body so he’s got a clear view of the doorway. Finn clears his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok, so, Kurt asked me if I’d lead today’s meeting,” Finn begins, “because we’re talking about straight allies and I’m a straight ally. I guess we should start with introductions. I’m Finn and I’m here because Kurt says I have to talk about straight allies.” He laughs a little. Puck snorts. “And we’ll start with you, Puck.”

Puck rolls his eyes. “I’m Puck. I’m here ‘cause I’m awesome.” This time, Finn snorts. Puck just looks at him and smiles innocently.

No one ever sat in the chair for Kurt’s leg, so Kurt goes next. “I’m Kurt. I’m here, I’m queer.”

A few more people introduce themselves, including Schue, who repeats his introduction from the last time almost word for word. Rickenbacker goes through his whole “I’m Rickenbacker, called Rick” routine again, then says, “And I’m here because I wanna be.” Puck nods once or twice, grudgingly impressed. They continue around the circle, and Rachel, next to Finn, is mid-introduction when Casey walks in.

“Sorry,” Casey whispers. He looks paler and smaller than usual, and as he slinks around the outside of the circle and sets his backpack down by his seat, he winces. Out of the corner of his eye, Puck sees Kurt straighten suddenly, and when he turns to look at Kurt, Kurt’s staring at Casey, eyes narrowing a little.

“Casey?” Kurt says gently. “Are you okay?” Casey nods. “Are you _sure_?” Kurt presses.

“After?” Casey says, quietly.

“You sure about that?” Puck asks, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to talk about it in front of everybody,” Casey murmurs. Puck frowns and looks at Kurt, then Finn.

“Wait after and we’ll talk. I’m sure Ms. Pillsbury will write you a pass if you need it,” Kurt says. Casey nods slightly.

Kurt turns to address the room at large. “Before we begin, Ms. Pillsbury has managed to secure us an assembly spot on the eighteenth of this month. If you have something you’d like to present or like to see presented, please let me know. We’ll talk about it more in-depth at the next meeting.”

“Ok, well,” Finn says. “We should get started. So, since I think a lot of us here are this meeting are here as the ‘F’ or ‘friend’ part of PFLAG, I’m gonna talk a little about being a straight ally. Being an ally means more than just not being homophobic. It’s more than, ‘yeah, I don’t hate you, you don’t really bother me.’ You’ve gotta learn about issues and you’ve gotta be willing to step up when you see something happening. Like, if you hear someone calling another kid names, you can’t just sit there and think, ‘oh hey, that’s not cool.’ You need to say something, step in and stop it if you can, or go find someone who can help you stop it.”

Sam’s the first to speak up. “The administration here isn’t exactly supportive of helping stop it, like we talked about before. I mean, seriously, how many of us are going to end up with black eyes? Last year it was me, this year it was Puck. So what can we do?”

“Well, maybe next week it’ll be me with a black eye, or next year it’ll be, I dunno, Brown over there,” Finn says, with a shrug. “It’s gonna be small steps. That’s just how it goes. Every extra person who stands up and says something sends a message. And look, we’ve already got teachers who are promising to make their classrooms a safe space. We know we can go to them.”

Coach Beiste clears her throat. “I’ve had two of you ask me to hang out in specific places during specific times of the day, and I’m happy to do that as much as I can. But you have to let us know. I know it’s an imperfect solution, but if it helps, even a little bit, I’ll be there.”

Kurt’s gaze flicks over towards Puck for a moment, but he doesn’t otherwise react, and Puck just tries to approximate detached interest.

Finn smiles. “Thanks, Coach. See, guys? This is how it gets better for everyone. And helping make it better, that’s a really cool thing to be a part of, you know? Like when New York was voting on marriage equality, Kurt and I were watching that, and it was just really cool to see how happy everybody was, and know that stuff like that can happen because there are people like me and you who _want_ it to happen. It can’t just be gay people who are trying to make a difference. There’s just not enough of ‘em! Straight people, straight _allies_ have to get on board, too.”

“Politics is really boring, though,” Mercedes says. “I mean, I _know_ it’s important, all the votes and stuff, but how can I keep up with it without falling asleep?”

Puck has the answer for that, but he decides to see what Finn or anyone else says, ‘cause they’re just barely holding Rachel at bay for the next day or two.

“It doesn’t all have to be political,” Finn explains. “I mean, it helps, sure, but it can also be about supporting your friends, and there’s lots of ways to do that that don’t involve watching the news or going to rallies. I know Kurt posts stuff on Facebook all the time. It isn’t hard to read that and share it, you know? You can Tweet it, too, and even though I’m not sure if those online petition things really make too much of a difference, I think it does at least send a message that you actually care about it.”

“Some places, like HRC or GLAAD, will send you emails, too,” Kurt shrugs. “I think the national PFLAG organization has an email newsletter or something.”

“Oh, and I have _these_ for everybody,” Finn pipes up. He pulls out a stack of stapled papers and starts passing them around. “It’s from PFLAG, the Guide to Being a Straight Ally. If you’re not straight, I guess you don’t have to take one, but you could bring it home or share it with a friend or something.”

Everyone takes one of the fliers except for Kurt, Brittany, and Casey. Puck sticks his in his backpack, figuring he can give it to his mom or something. Though he’s sure Carole’s probably passed it on already.

As everybody is filing away the straight ally packets, Finn asks, “Does anybody else have questions?”

When no one responds, Kurt shoots Finn a look before speaking. “Since my brother will be out of town in two weeks, I thought we’d cover a requested topic.” Kurt exhales a little. “So, be sure to come learn about safe gay sex.” He smiles tightly, his face turning a little pink.

Finn lets out a sound of relief. “Oh, thank _God_. No offense, man, but I _so_ didn’t want to sit through that conversation as led by my brother.”

“Believe me, I didn’t want you to, either,” Kurt says with a nod.

“Ok, then,” Finn says, switching his attention back to the meeting. “I guess we’re done here today. You guys go and be awesome straight people. Or gay people. Or, you know, bi or whatever people. Just go and be awesome to each other this week.”

Everyone stands and starts to leave then, except for a few of them hanging back to talk to Casey. Karofsky stays seated, too, eating the last of his sandwich. When everyone else has left, Kurt’s gaze swivels back to Casey.

“How bad?” he asks, as if he doesn’t really need Casey to explain anything, and even Puck is a little lost.

Casey’s eyes flicker to Finn and over to Karofsky, and the corners of his eyes look a little pinched, like he’s uncomfortable even talking about it. “Um. I don’t know what the scale is for that.”

“Is it going to bruise?” Kurt offers, still gentle and quiet, and Puck frowns.

With another uneasy glance at Karofsky and an apologetic look at Finn, Casey tugs up the side of his polo shirt. An ugly red welt is already starting to blossom into a bruise across his lower two ribs. “I think I hit the knob on the way down,” he says, softly.

Finn’s eyes narrow and he just says, “Who?”

Puck’s own hands are clenched into fists, and Kurt’s digging through his bag, probably looking for bruise cream or something. Karofsky’s put down the sandwich and his face looks a lot like Finn’s, and he seems interested in Casey’s answer, too.

Casey’s eyes dart around the room and he sniffs softly, like he’s trying to keep it together. “Luke Johannson.”

Finn is on his feet before Casey finishes talking. He points at Kurt and Puck. “You. Stay here with Casey.”

Karofsky stands up. “I’m coming with you.”

Finn nods. “Hell yeah, you are.”

Together, Finn and Karofsky jog out of the classroom.

 

“Not the first time?” Karofsky asks as they head down the hallway.

“That’s one of the dudes who fucked up Puck’s face,” Finn growls. “And it doesn’t stop there. He’s been after Kurt all year. Nothing physical, but he’s mouthy and it’s picking up.”

Karofsky nods. “I think there’s a sophomore PE class after lunch, they probably would have moved him into it after he had to quit the team.”

“Oh, I know they did,” Finn snorts. “I have his schedule. I’ve just been looking for a reason, man. It’s bad enough when it’s Puck or Kurt, but you don’t mess with Casey. Dude’s like three feet tall.”

“Fair enough,” Karofsky nods.

Finn and Karofsky make it to the locker room in shorter-than-average time, because for some reason, they don’t get slowed by the regular class-change crowds. Everyone seems to part as they sprint down the hallway, and the result is that they arrive at the locker room while everyone is still changing.

Johannson isn’t alone by his locker, but the other guys around him don’t seem to interested in talking to him. Getting kicked off the team hasn’t ramped up his popularity. Luckily, Fordham is nowhere to be seen and Johannson is taking his own sweet time getting dressed. Finn and Karofsky pause behind a row of lockers until the room is mostly empty, then Finn steps out.

“Hey, Johannson,” Finn says, in a low, dangerous voice. “How’s the knee?” The smile on Finn’s face is wide and terrifying. Karofsky steps behind him, not saying a word, just cracking his knuckles once or twice before also smiling, almost pleasantly.

Johannson jumps, awkwardly, because his knee is still in the brace from his “fall” against the lockers. “Shit!” he yelps, looking around for assistance. “What the fuck do you want?”

Finn takes a slow, deliberate step towards Johannson, angling himself so that Johannson would have a hard time getting around him if he decides to bolt. “You just aren’t real smart, are you?” Finn asks, his voice suddenly mild, even friendly. “Do you have a really hard time in school?”

“I don’t think he understands critical thinking,” Karofsky says, shaking his head. “If this, then that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Johannson spits, backing against the locker.

“Oh, you must be right!” Finn says to Karofsky. “That’s gotta be so tough for him. What do you think might be a better teaching tool?”

Karofsky shrugs, grinning. “I’ve heard Singapore has the right idea. Caning.” Johannson blanches.

“I dunno,” Finn says. “Would that really teach him, though? I was thinking more of a real life lessons situation. Modeling, or whatever. Like a hands-on demonstration of why Luke Johannson needs to start leaving people the hell alone.”

“Like Charades, except with more fists?”

“Kinda exactly.”

Johannson adopts a defensive stance, curling his hands into fists and raising his arms slightly. “What, you think you can just jump me in the locker room and nobody’s gonna notice?”

Finn’s grin widens even more. “Aw, see! He’s learning already, Dave.” Turning back to Johannson, Finn says, “And we’re not gonna put marks where anybody can see them. This isn’t a bashing, dude. It’s a _life lesson_.”

“There’s hope for him yet,” Karofsky agrees. “Shall we get on with the lesson?”

“You hold, I’ll direct and explain?”

“Perfect.”

In one swift motion, Finn and Karofsky corner Johannson against the locker, Karofsky pinning Johannson’s arms behind his back. Johannson kicks and yells, until Finn says, “And if he doesn’t shut up, we’ll take care of that other knee for him.” Johannson keeps struggling, but stops yelling.

“You’re big, but I’m bigger _and_ stronger,” Karofsky growls, twisting Johannson’s arm.

“So, I hear you’ve been talking shit in the hallways, dude,” Finn says, his tone almost sympathetic. “Now, I know we’ve talked about that. Dave, you wanna get a kidney for me?”

“Sure, Finn,” Karofsky grins, and lands a punch first over Johannson’s right kidney, and then, with a shrug, adds one over the left kidney. “For good measure,” he shrugs.

“Gift with purchase? That’s thoughtful.” Finn walks closer to Johannson, who is doubled over now, not struggling as much, and groaning. “We’re gonna go over this again. Keep your mouth shut. You keep your mouth shut with my brother. You keep your mouth shut _about_ my brother. You keep your mouth shut about his friends, my friends, or anybody else’s friends. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Johannson groans again. “Fuck you, Hudson.”

“Wrong answer,” Karofsky supplies quickly, and he starts to bend Johannson’s wrist back. “It’d be a shame if you slipped in the puddles near the shower and cracked your wrist, buddy.”

“Hey Dave, hold up a second,” Finn says. “Don’t we have another important lesson we were gonna teach? You know, the same one JoJo here thought he’d teach Casey today.”

“Ruin my fun,” Karofsky mock-sighs. “You’re right. Lockers first.” He plants his feet and it doesn’t take a lot of effort for him to ram Johannson into the lockers closest to him. Johannson grunts out a low bellow as his rib cage connects with the locker’s door latch and knocks the wind out of him.

“Oops,” Dave says.

“Ouch,” Finn pretends to flinch. “That looks like that hurts! You think it hurt that much when you chucked little Casey into the lockers today? ‘Cause I’m betting it hurt a lot more than that, since you’re so much bigger than him. Dave, you think you could try one more time, you know, for accuracy?”

“Oh, sure thing,” Karofsky nods, and this time, he slams Johannson into the lockers on the other side. “Oh, man, I think he caught the vents with his arm. That’s gonna burn,” he says, mock-sympathy pouring from his mouth.

Johannson coughs and moans. Finn gets right down in his face, close enough to feel Johannson’s breath. “Now, I don’t want to hear a word about what happened in here,” Finn explains, quietly and carefully. “Not one word. Dave and I are good students and people like us. We’re _nice_ people, see? Not like you. Nobody really cares what happens to you, because you just don’t know how to behave. Now, you’re gonna start demonstrating, really _really_ well, all the reasons why this doesn’t need to happen again. I’m watching you. My buddy Dave here? He’s watching you, too, isn’t that right?”

“You bet.” Karofsky grins. “We just want to make sure you learned the lesson. We’re like... student-teachers.”

Johannson continues to pant and a line of slightly bloody saliva runs out of the corner of his mouth. He nods once, then, looking at Finn’s face, nods two more times, more vigorously.

“You stay away from my brother, from Puck, from Casey, from everybody. You need an outlet, join the wrestling team,” Finn hisses. “I’m sure Zizes would love a new chew toy. Shall we, Dave?”

“I do need to get to class,” Karofsky agrees, voice full of regret. “It’s a pity, I thought we were having such a great time here.”

“Hey, odds are good we’ll get to all play together again in the future,” Finn says, jovially, patting Dave on the shoulder. “Johannson’s not the smartest dude ever, and man, coming from me, that is saying something.”

Karofsky releases Johannson, and he watches the sophomore cringe away from him with a satisfied look. “Be good, Lukey,” Karofsky says, dusting off his hands.

“Catch you later, Jojo,” Finn adds. “Glad the knee’s improving.”

Finn and Karofsky leave the locker room with Johannson still cringing against the lockers.

 

As Finn and Karofsky’s footsteps fade away, Puck looks back at Casey, and Kurt finally finds what he’s been looking for.

“Here, this’ll help a little,” Kurt explains to Casey, handing him the tube. “Just put some on your fingers and then rub it in.”

“Thanks,” Casey whispers, taking the cream and gingerly rubbing a little bit into the purple-red blotch on his ribs. “You’re so nice to me. All of you guys.”

“Just pay it forward one day,” Kurt says, smiling slightly.

“This happened to you a lot?” Casey asks.

Kurt nods. “Yes, sometimes.” Puck winces and shifts his gaze to a random spot on the wall. Kurt rolls his eyes and slaps Puck’s arm. “Stop it.”

“All right,” he grumbles.

Casey looks from Puck to Kurt, his expression curious. “Did you get pushed into lockers, too?”

“No. I was one of the ones doing the pushing,” Puck admits. Casey’s eyes widen and dart between Puck and Kurt.

“Oh,” Casey says softly. “So, so what _happened_?”

“I grew up,” Puck shrugs. “Granted, I apparently need things _really_ pounded into me, but at least I got the message eventually.”

Kurt takes his hand and squeezes it, not saying anything, and Puck squeezes back gratefully.

At that moment, Finn and Karofsky appear in the classroom doorway, a little winded but otherwise looking none the worse for wear. Kurt quickly releases Puck’s hand, and Puck swallows a little as they turn to look at the other two.

“Hey guys,” Finn grins.

“You’re quite chipper,” Kurt remarks sardonically.

“We had a nice chat with our good buddy Jojo,” Finn chirps. “I think he heard us.”

“I think I like ‘Lukey’ better,” Karofsky muses. “I’m still not sure he’s got a good grasp on critical thinking, but behaviorist techniques work even on lower mammals.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what that means, but it was funny when he bounced off the locker,” Finn says, with a little laugh.

“Barbarians,” Kurt sniffs, but he’s grinning, and Puck just shakes his head, chuckling.

Casey’s eyes are huge, his face pale. “You threw him into a locker?” he whispers, gazing at Finn and Karofsky with worshipful eyes.

“Well, Dave here did,” Finn says, with a jerk of his head in Karofsky’s direction. “I just directed.”

“Good old-fashioned teamwork,” Karofsky agrees. “And technically, it was twice. Once on the left, once on the right.”

“For balance...and remembering,” Finn nods.

Casey’s mouth drops open and he stares at Dave with big, shiny eyes.

“C’mon,” Karofsky nods at Casey. “Let me walk you to your next class. What do you have now?”

“Math,” Casey squeaks, his voice slipping into a higher register. As he gathers his bags he gives Kurt another thankful look, shoots a shy smile at Finn and a little wave at Puck, and then trots along after Karofsky, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at Kurt like “can you believe it?”

“Yeah? Which math?” Karofsky starts to ask, and then they head out into the hall.

Puck shakes his head. “Jerkface isn’t going to get you two in trouble?”

“Nah,” Finn says. “We took care of it.”

 

Puck stops working about fifteen minutes before the bell and goes to talk to Ms. Pillsbury about how the independent study is going, because he’s supposed to near the beginning of each month, and he thinks he may have forgotten in October. There’s not a lot to really say, though, and he heads outside before the bell rings. Kurt’s already there, so he climbs into the Nav with a smile.

“Don’t get me wrong–I do miss it. But this? Is really nice.”

“I know,” Kurt says, reaching over and taking his hand. “What to do with so many hours...” he muses, face looking very serious.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Puck offers, trying hard to look equally serious.

“We are creative people,” Kurt agrees.

“Oh, you didn’t say we were going to be creative,” Puck smirks now. “That’s another story, isn’t it?”

Kurt stops at a light briefly and looks over at Puck, gaze intense, and runs his tongue along his lips, almost as if he’s unaware of the action. Almost. “It is indeed.”

“I take it we’re going with the theory of play first, work later?”

“We’ve been working all day,” Kurt says dismissively. “We’re just... having recess.”

“Damn. I remember liking recess, but not this much.”

Kurt grins as they pull into the driveway. “I guess some things really do get better as you get older.”

“I guess so,” Puck grins, grabbing his backpack and climbing out.

He puts one arm around Kurt as soon as they walk into the garage, pulling him close. Sometimes Puck worries that he needs to touch too much, that his tactile thing is kind of weird, but most of the time, he just hopes that he’ll always want Kurt that badly.

The image from the other day flashes into his head again, of an older Kurt, and Puck has a harder time picturing what he’ll look like in thirty years or whatever, but he knows that whatever he himself looks like, he wants to be there, looking at Kurt.

Puck pulls Kurt into a deep kiss as soon as the bedroom door closes behind them. Kurt looks very proper today; purple shirt and cardigan with black tie and pants and shiny loafers. He could almost pass for a teacher or someone professional, but there’s just something about the _way_ he wears it that makes it seem very, very different.

Or maybe that’s just Puck. Whichever.

So Puck runs his hand across the knot of the tie and then strokes down it with the back of his hand, slipping his fingers under Kurt’s cardigan and working at the buttons with the other hand. His tongue darts in and out of Kurt’s mouth, and once he gets the cardigan off Kurt’s shoulders, he pulls away, slipping it off Kurt’s arms and running his tongue over the spot behind Kurt’s ear. Kurt wriggles and gasps, and Puck moves away again, sweeping his eyes over Kurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “So fucking wonderful, K.” He tugs on the tie lightly. “I swear, you drive me crazy. In a good way.”

He slides his hands up to undo the knot as Kurt responds. “You just like the tie.”

“Nuh-uh,” Puck counters, leaving the undone tie threaded through Kurt’s collar as he starts to unbutton Kurt’s shirt. “Every day.” He kisses Kurt hard, pulling one sleeve free, then the other. “Watching you in your clothes, walking around.” Puck runs his hand under Kurt’s undershirt, knowing Kurt needed every bit of warmth he could get from each layer he wore. “So hard not to undress you right there.” He slides the undershirt over Kurt’s head and tosses it in the floor before putting his hands immediately onto Kurt’s belt.

“You don’t wish I’d just wear a t-shirt and jeans like the rest of you?” Kurt teases, and Puck shakes his head fervently.

“No.” He pushes Kurt’s now-unfastened pants over his hips, reaching back up immediately to do the same with Kurt’s underwear. “I think there’s a Billy Joel song about that,” Puck adds, but then he fastens his mouth to Kurt’s, and by the time he releases Kurt’s mouth, Kurt’s forgotten about it, or at least doesn’t inquire further.

Puck has to step back for a moment, pulling his own shirt over his head and then stepping out of his jeans and underwear before moving back to Kurt. Their bodies fit together and Puck initiates another deep kiss, backing them towards Kurt’s bed before they fall onto it, Kurt pulling away and shrieking a little. Puck chuckles and moves his mouth back to the same spot behind Kurt’s ear, letting his laughs vibrate against Kurt’s skin.

Kurt arches up towards Puck, and Puck lowers himself carefully so that their skin is just brushing. Kurt gasps a little and Puck grins against his neck. “Want you so bad,” Puck whispers, and Kurt nods against him.

Kurt’s arms are around Puck, pulling him closer, and Puck pushes his tongue into Kurt’s mouth as he presses their erections together. “What do you want,” Kurt gasps, turning his head slightly to the side, the tilt of his chin exposing his pale neck.

Puck lowers his head and nibbles at Kurt’s neck, careful not to leave any additional marks, the ones from Saturday mostly fading. “I want to make you scream,” Puck says, grinning.

“I can be on board with that,” Kurt nods, breath shallow.

“Thought you might be,” Puck agrees, nipping at Kurt’s ear and letting one hand run down Kurt’s side, stopping on his hip. Kurt shifts his weight, pressing against Puck’s hand, and Puck moves his hand, pulling up on Kurt’s hips and slipping his hand underneath him.

Puck meets Kurt’s lips then, his other hand rummaging in the bedside table until he can feel a familiar bottle under his hands. He flips the lid and pulls back, kneeling between Kurt’s legs. He coats two fingers, then runs them slowly around the base of Kurt’s cock, over his balls, and then farther back.

Kurt draws his legs up, spreading them farther apart, and whimpers as Puck’s fingers brush across his entrance. “You like that?” Puck whispers, and Kurt nods. Puck smiles and pushes the barest tip of his fingers inside Kurt, who flexes and rocks towards him.

“More,” Kurt nods after a moment, and Puck slowly slides his fingers further inside Kurt, feeling Kurt’s muscles tighten, relax, and re-tighten around him, gripping Puck firmly. Puck squeezes his fingers together, then separates them slightly, fingertips twitching, and Kurt shakes a little underneath him.

Puck moves his fingers out somewhat and back in, repeating the motion a few times before withdrawing his hand completely and coating a third finger, pressing all three in together steadily. Kurt rocks towards him again, flinging his legs over Puck’s shoulders, and Puck grins at the sight of Kurt’s cock, already leaking fluid.

“Please, Puck,” Kurt begs, thrusting up and hooking his legs around Puck. Puck nods and pulls his hand free once more time, using both hands to coat his erection before positioning himself at Kurt’s entrance. Kurt’s hips roll towards him, and Puck nudges at his entrance, slipping barely inside before stopping for a moment. He repeats the same pattern, moving just barely farther inside before stopping, taking it exquisitely slowly, and Kurt’s lying beneath him, begging for more. “Puck. Puckpuckpuck,” Kurt chants, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. “Please, god, please.”

“Please what?” Puck teases, his own breath shallow and his body tense .

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Kurt grinds out. “You fucking _tease_.”

Puck chuckles breathlessly and begins to move, slowly for the first few strokes, then faster as his own control begins to break. His left hand grips Kurt’s thigh, and his right hand strays to the base of Kurt’s cock, circling it loosely. The brush of his fingers cause Kurt to jump, though, and he tightens around Puck.

They’re both murmuring nonsense, whimpers and groans and half-formed words, and Puck lets his hand tighten around Kurt, sliding it slowly up to the head and then back down again. Kurt’s head jerks back, his throat humming, and Puck thrusts into him harder, his hand still pumping up Kurt’s length. Kurt tenses a final time and then comes into Puck’s hand, clenching around Puck, and it sends Puck over the edge as well, both of them screaming.

Puck eases Kurt’s legs back down to the mattress and slowly pulls out, both of them making faint noises, before collapsing beside Kurt, arm flung over Kurt’s chest. “Told you I’d make you scream,” Puck murmurs, self-satisfied.

Kurt just laughs, high and still a little breathless. “I think you’re forgetting I made _you_ scream, too.”

“Whatever,” Puck says dismissively. “That’s just ‘cause you’re awesome.”

Puck can feel Kurt’s grin against his cheek. “Why thank you, kind sir,” Kurt says lightly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“High praise,” Puck snorts.

“I wouldn’t want to inflate your ego,” Kurt sniffs. “It might get bigger than mine.”

Puck laughs and tightens his arm a little, pulling Kurt closer as he turns on his side towards him. “Can’t have that, can we?” He kisses Kurt’s cheek and then his temple, bring his bottom arm up to comb his fingers through Kurt’s hair.

Kurt just shakes his head and pushes his head into Puck’s hand, eyes half closed, and Puck pushes himself up a little to capture Kurt’s lips. They fall open under Puck’s almost immediately, Kurt’s tongue darting out, and Puck twines his own tongue with Kurt’s. Puck knows they need to get up sooner rather than later, that they need to work, and that they have no idea when Finn will be home, but Kurt’s pressing against him, and the rest of Puck’s brain says screw it, they’ll probably be fine.

So he runs his hand the rest of the way down Kurt’s side, his fingers on Kurt’s hip and his thumb brushing at the base of Kurt’s cock, which is hardening a little already. Kurt rolls towards him and then breaks their kiss.

“We should get up, baby,” he says mournfully.

“I know, blue eyes,” Puck sighs. “I just don’t _want_ to.”

Kurt nods. “I don’t, either, but I don’t know what Finn’s plans are. And you should take advantage of the extra time to get more work done, as boring as that sounds.”

“Yeah.” Puck kisses Kurt again and then sits up reluctantly. He stays on the bed, watching as Kurt rolls off the bed and starts to get dressed again, pulling on his slacks and then his shirt. When he reaches for the tie, though, Puck stands up and swats his hands away, tying it for him.

“Thank you,” Kurt smiles, kissing the corner of Puck’s mouth, and then Puck figures it’s time to put his own clothes back on. He scoops up Kurt’s cardigan and tosses it on the bed, Kurt having reached into a drawer for a thicker v-neck sweater that probably doesn’t match as well but looks even warmer. Kurt’s put on a pair of thick slippers, too, and Puck slips an arm around him.

“Dinner?”

“Let me find out if Finn’s going to be here.” Kurt reaches for his phone and sends a quick text. After a minute, Kurt’s phone buzzes, and Kurt nods. “Yeah, he’s coming home for dinner, so I guess we should figure something out. Though his text charmingly asks what I’m cooking.”

“Just for that, I should cook.”

“You aren’t that bad of a cook,” Kurt points out, and his phone buzzes again. “Do we need anything?”

“Fresh salad?” Puck guesses. “Bread?”

“Hmm.” They clatter into the kitchen and Kurt peers into the refrigerator. “Good call.” He texts Finn back and then puts his phone away. “What do you want to cook?”

“I’m good at jars and grilling,” Puck shrugs. “Somehow I doubt that you favor stuff like Hamburger Helper.”

“Not me,” Kurt agrees. “Pretty sure Finn lived on it for a few years, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” Puck laughs.

Kurt opens the freezer. “We have steak, hamburger meat, and some chicken. Plus frozen vegetables and various frozen potato products.” He closes the freezer and opens the other door, scanning the counter at the same time. “Oh, we’ve got carrots and some winter squash, too.”

“Let’s grill some steak,” Puck suggests. “We can make some kind of potato thing and eat salad.”

Kurt nods and tosses the steak at Puck, who finds the larger George Foreman and plugs it in. It doesn’t take long before they can smell the steak cooking, and Kurt has roasted potatoes in the oven. They can hear Finn coming into the house, then, grocery bags rustling.

“Hello?” Finn calls out. “You guys decent?”

“It’s near freezing outside, Finn!” Kurt calls back. “So yes.”

“Just checking,” Finn says, popping his head into the kitchen. “I think it’s a fair question.”

“Only if you feel like you’ve stepped into a sauna when you walk in, dude,” Puck points out. “The thermostat would have to be jacked up to, like, 85.”

“Is that the salad?” Kurt asks, pointing the bags in Finn’s hands.

“No, it’s a bag of very fresh marijuana,” Finn says, deadpan. “I bought it under the bleachers.”

“Oh, maybe we _can_ do that bake sale after all,” Puck laughs.

“Uh, what?” Finn asks.

“Uh. The bake sale sophomore year? Everyone wanted more cupcakes? They were pot cupcakes.”

Kurt wheels to stare at him, incredulous.

“Oh, shit!” Finn breathes. “I ate, like, _five_ of those!”

“Relax, dude, it was two years ago. No one’s gonna make you piss in a cup now.” Puck shrugs.

“Where did you get it?” Kurt asks, still looking stunned.

“Just like Finn said. Under the bleachers. Except I went in the wheelchair, got a cut-rate deal. Ryerson’s not the sharpest crayon.”

“What if somebody asks me if I’ve ever done drugs?” Finn whines. “Now I have to say _yes_.”

“You didn’t do them _willingly_ ,” Kurt points out. “Which is really what they’re asking. I mean, if the dentist gives you pain pills, you don’t say that you’ve done opiates.”

“Oh, shit. I’ve done opiates, too?”

“I’m going to stop talking now,” Kurt sighs, and deliberately turns to look into the oven.

“You haven’t done any drugs,” Puck says patiently. “You’re a nice upstanding young man. Okay?”

“Okay,” Finn answers, sounding pretty dubious. “I hope this doesn’t come up on an application later, because if they ask if I’ve eaten pot, I’ve gotta say yes.”

“That’s not a question that’s likely to be on any applications.”

Kurt takes the bags from Finn, probably because he seems almost paralyzed now, and dumps the salad into a bowl, setting it on the table. “It’s almost time to eat, Finn.”

“Good, because all this talk about pot cupcakes has made me really hungry,” Finn says. “Don’t tell my mom. About the cupcakes, I mean.”

“Duly noted,” Puck answers dryly.

“Set the table?” Kurt says, an eyebrow raised as he glances at Finn.

“Oh, sure, yeah. I can do that.” Finn hastens to set the table, occasionally looking askance at Puck.

Puck shakes his head a little and pulls the steaks off the grill, setting them on a platter, and Kurt pulls out the potatoes. “Mmm, that smells good,” Puck comments, even though it’s a little dubious to say that about things you cooked yourself.

Finn reaches out and grabs a piece of potato off the pan. “Ow, shit! That’s hot!” he yelps, juggling the potato from hand to hand. He takes an experimental bite of it. “Hot!” he yelps again.

“We’ve had this conversation,” Puck shakes his head. “Remember. _Patience_.”

“They smelled so good,” Finn whimpers.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Kurt shrugs.

“Yeah they do,” Puck agrees, and wraps his arms around Kurt from behind, kissing the side of his neck.

Finn disappears upstairs after they finish eating (and he washes the dishes), but Kurt pulls Puck into the living room, curling up against Puck’s side on the couch and throwing a blanket over both of them as they study. Puck settles his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and does as much as he can without writing before giving in and moving his arm. Kurt whimpers and wrinkles his nose when he does so, so Puck leans over and kisses him thoroughly, then kisses the tip of his nose.

Carole just pokes her head in and waves when she gets home, but Burt grabs a can of pop and sits in the recliner. “You boys got lots of homework?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt nods. “And the rest of our applications are due soon, too.”

“How about you, Puck? Classes going all right?”

“Yes, sir,” Puck answers, nodding. Well, they are now, anyway, but he’s still not really wanting to talk about the whole football situation.

“Good, good. What’d you boys have for dinner?”

“Steak and potatoes and salad,” Kurt answers. “Finn bought more salad, by the way; the three of us ate a lot of it, but there’s still plenty for tomorrow in the refrigerator.”

“That’s cruel, son, talking about steak in front of me.”

“Sorry, Dad,” and Kurt really does sound apologetic. “Better to hear about it than to smell it?” he offers.

“Yeah, probably,” Burt nods, and finishes up his can of pop. “Well, I’m gonna go check on Finn and say hello to Carole. Don’t stay up too late, Kurt. ‘Night, Puck.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Good night.”

The house is almost eerily quiet by the time they put away their stuff and head outside, Kurt grabbing a heavy coat that Puck’s pretty sure actually belongs to Burt. “Good night, blue eyes,” Puck says softly, standing on the sidewalk with the window rolled down. “Be good.” His breath is visible, short puffs.

“Good night, baby,” Kurt smiles. “I’m always good.”

 

Wednesday is totally different than what Puck has come to expect. After dual enrollment ends, Kurt drops him off at Starbucks, even though Puck’s got an hour to kill, and then heads to work himself. Puck claims a seat in the lobby and knocks out the next problem set for stats before going and changing.

It’s been a long time since he worked an afternoon, much less a closing shift, and it takes him longer than it used to to finish up all the closing tasks. Once he’s almost finished, it hits him that _he’s_ the one opening, so it really shouldn’t be a big deal if he cuts a few corners to make it easier for himself both at night and in the morning. Something to remember for the next week, anyway.

 

Kurt waits until the afternoon rush of owners picking up their cars has ended, and all of his dad’s employees have gone home before he takes a deep breath, plucking up his courage as he picks up a radiator hose. “Dad?”

“Yeah? Whatcha need, Kurt?” Burt’s voice is slightly muffled as it comes from underneath the Buick LeSabre he’s working on.

“I think we need to talk about this Wisconsin trip. I know you don’t want me to stay at home alone. I... accept that.” Kurt sighs and tightens a connection with a wrench. “But I have obligations here in Lima those days.”

“Uh huh,” Burt responds, his voice dubious. “Puck one of those obligations?”

“Dad,” Kurt groans. “I was talking about my dual enrollment classes. And PFLAG.”

“You don’t think you can miss those for a couple of days? Your grades are good enough, I didn’t think that would be a problem. Hey, hand me that socket wrench, will ya?”

Kurt picks up the socket wrench and bends down to pass it to Burt. “It’s not a problem for my classes at McKinley, no, but there’s less understanding for dual enrollment. It’s actually my Tuesday class I’m concerned about, because so much of it is conversation in French.” Kurt steps back to the radiator on the old Saturn in front of him. “It’s really the Tuesday in general that worries me. So... I wondered if I could come back early.”

Burt makes a noise that, coming from under the car, could be a snort or a cough. “You planning on driving there and back alone? That’s an eight hour drive.”

Kurt shrugs, even though Burt can’t see him. “As long as I don’t leave too late, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. I’d still be there for all the activities on Monday and possibly Sunday evening.”

Burt hums his disapproval. “I don’t know that I’m comfortable with you making that kind of drive alone. Or staying here alone, for that matter.”

“Well, I knew you weren’t happy about my staying alone. I talked to both Mercedes and Rachel and their parents are fine with me staying there for a night or two.”

“Mmhmm,” Burt answers, noncommittally. “And if I talked to Mercedes and Rachel’s parents, they’re gonna tell me the same thing?”

“Dad!” Kurt protests, groaning. “I talked to Mr. Berry myself. And as far as driving, you do realize that New York is a _ten_ hour drive, which I’ll have to make several times a year?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Burt grumbles. “We’ll worry about New York when we’ve gotta worry about New York. Right now, we’re talking Wisconsin.” He sighs and slides out from under the Buick. His face is somewhat grim. “So, the Berrys, eh?”

“Mr. Berry answered when I called Rachel,” Kurt shrugged. “I talked to Mercedes at school, though.”

“You talk to Hiram or Leroy?” Burt asks. “And has anybody talked to Mercedes’s parents?”

“Leroy. The one that _doesn’t_ talk your ear off. Mercedes says she did but I didn’t check her phone log.” Kurt rolls his eyes.

Burt sighs. “I can see you took the time to think this through,” he says, wryly. “Always an answer for everything.”

Kurt sighs. “I know you don’t _really_ think my life revolves around deceiving you, Dad.”

“Sometimes I’m not totally sure about that,” Burt says, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly like it used to be around here. You’re...busier.”

“Dad.” Kurt’s expression softens a little. “I’ve been busy for a couple of years now. And you’re busier, too,” he adds, grinning.

“Well, I gotta have something to keep me entertained when you abandon me for the wilds of New York,” Burt huffs. “What else am I gonna do without you around? It’s a good thing Carole and I got married when we did, so I could practice having other stuff to do.”

Kurt laughs a little, but he can feel his cheeks turning pink. “I think the two of you will be fine,” he says finally.

“Yeah, well...” Burt sighs again. “Ok. I’m not happy about the driving. I’m not totally happy about you being here alone--and I know, I know, you’re staying with Rachel or Mercedes, but I ain’t dumb, kid--but...you’re eighteen. I guess you’ve gotta start having some independence sometime or another.” He shakes his head. “Just, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thank you!” Kurt springs forward and wraps his arms around Burt. Burt returns the hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, giving Kurt a pat on the back before releasing him. “You gonna finish that radiator or what?”

“Almost done,” Kurt says brightly as he steps back and picks up the next part. “I can close up if you want to head on home.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Puck’s walking home, finally, when his phone chimes with a text message from Kurt.

_Call me when you can xx_

Puck waits until he’s inside the apartment and showered, saying good night to his mom as he closes the door and presses Kurt’s name on his phone.

“Hi,” Kurt answers, almost breathlessly.

“Hey, K. What’s up?”

“I talked to my dad about that whole Wisconsin thing tonight,” Kurt begins. “So I couldn’t get out of it entirely, but he said I could drive back on Monday evening.”

“Cool.” Puck grins. “He gonna let you stay alone?”

“No.” Kurt sighs. “Which, I had talked to Mercedes and Rachel already, so I’ll stay with one of them. Dad didn’t believe me that I had talked to them.”

“If we’re telling Rachel tomorrow anyway, that might be easier.” Puck winces a little, thinking about the next afternoon, because he’d managed to put it out of his mind most of the time.

“True,” Kurt concedes. “And technically my dad’s right–I don’t know that Mercedes really did talk to her parents, though I have no reason to think that she didn’t. I ended up talking to Mr. Berry myself. Leroy, not Hiram. Thankfully.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, don’t get Hiram Berry started.”

 

Rachel maintains the same demeanor during and after English as she had on Tuesday and Wednesday, thankfully, and she walks with him towards the choir room chattering happily about the arrangements that Tina & Co. have developed.

When they get to the choir room, Finn’s seemingly getting ready to hold court. Kurt’s sitting near the front with his laptop, and Tina’s conferring with Mike and his committee in another corner.

“So, I talked to Kurt and he says he’s ready to start throwing some costume ideas at you,” Finn declares.

Kurt nods and waits for everyone to stop talking. “Okay, boys first,” he says. “We’ll stick with straight black–shoes, socks, pants, and shirt–for Sectionals. I admit, I’ve looked ahead a bit; if we can convince Mr. Schue, I think we’d do better to get all of our costumes as soon as possible.” He stops and looks up, clearly waiting for some response.

Finn nods, his face extremely serious. “I hear black is very slimming.” Puck just smirks, because really? Finn clearly listens to Kurt more than he lets on.

“Right. Well. So I’ve looked for Sectionals, as well as Regionals and Nationals.”

“I think Kurt’s right,” Quinn remarks. “Our costume budget comes from the school. We should use it now.”

“I agree with Quinn,” Rachel nods, and everyone does their best not to look shocked. Kurt raises his eyebrow and nods before continuing.

“So for Sectionals, I heeded one of the previous complaints, thought not for that reason. We’re competing against the Warblers and the Trojammers, and we know what the Warblers are wearing. I think they have the buttoned-down, crisp tie look solid,” he continues wryly. “So, in lieu of a tie, we’ll have–and no groaning, please–vests.” Finn groans anyway, despite Kurt’s instructions.

“Sweet! No tie!” Puck grins.

“ _Not_ a Mr. Schue-type vest,” Kurt expands. “Something like a professional dancer would wear, and our vests will match the girls’ dresses.”

“Like in a wedding?” Finn asks.

“Yes, Finn,” Kurt says patiently. “Exactly. Something like this, except not in black.” He turns the laptop screen so that most of the room can see it.

“Can they be orange?” Brittany asks, and Kurt merely shakes his head.

“Red,” Santana says, decisively.

“No, I think pink again,” Tina pipes up, Rachel nodding along with her.

“No pink!” Finn insists, and Artie, Sam, and Mike all nod in agreement.

“No, no pink,” Kurt agrees. “Actually, Santana is right, as the girls will be in red.”

Santana smiles smugly and nods. “I look smokin’ in red.”

“I thought having red costumes for Sectionals would do double-duty,” Kurt continues. “Since most of us will probably be working at the dance, we can wear them again then.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Rachel agrees tentatively.

“Are the girls wearing vests, too?” Finn asks.

“No. Dresses.” Kurt clicks on his laptop again and then shows another picture. “With a layer underneath.”

“Okay, that is hot,” Mercedes says, nodding her head. “Nice job, boo.”

“And most of us do look good in red,” Tina agrees, smiling.

“What about shoes?” Rachel asks.

“I have you covered, ladies,” Kurt insists, and yet another window appears on his screen, this time with shoes featured.

“Oh, those are awesome!” Brittany beams.

“I love them,” Quinn admits. “They’re adorable.”

“So? Ladies, you’re happy?” Kurt asks.

“Absolutely!” Tina nods, grinning. “Those are great, Kurt!”

“Hey, we didn’t get a picture of our vests, even,” Sam mock-complains.

“That’s because there’s not a picture on the internet,” Kurt fires back, smirking slightly.

“Then where are we getting them?” Artie asks, clearly confused.

Puck knows that smug look on Kurt’s face, though, so he just sits back and waits.

“So, what? You’re gonna make them or something?” Finn asks. “Like prom.”

Kurt nods. “It shouldn’t take that long.”

“Awesome,” Puck says with a nod, and the other guys nod, too, after a minute.

“Cool,” Finn says. “So, why don’t you show them your ideas for Regionals and Nationals, so we can go ahead and get that taken care of before Schue--I mean, while we’ve got a chance to discuss this as a group.”

“Sure.” Kurt pulls up another link. “This, minus that god-awful bow–and no, Rachel, we won’t leave it on yours.” Rachel frowns at Kurt but doesn’t say anything, her jaw clicking closed. “I think it looks better without the shrug, too. Boys, back to ties, I’m afraid, green to match the girls.”

“You’ll look great in that, Rach,” Finn says to Rachel, giving her a warm smile to take away the sting of losing the bow on the dress.

“I like it,” Brittany offers. “Can we wear black shoes with it?”

“Of course,” Kurt answers, almost too quickly, and Puck figures he’s just relieved that Brittany didn’t ask for the dresses or the shoes to be orange. “How about these?” Another window appears.

There are various murmurs and other noises of approval from the girls, heads nodding. “Nice,” Tina says. “We can actually wear these again.”

“But we have to wear ties?” Puck mock-whines. Kurt just rolls his eyes and shakes his head without answering. When he turns back towards the front, Puck smirks at the slight dimple in Kurt’s cheek.

“Ties are fine,” Finn says, heartily. “We’ll look great.”

“Or at least we’ll look like we all belong to the same team,” Mike says, grinning.

Sam laughs. “Yeah, at least that.”

“So, then, did you want to see Nationals?”

“Yes!” everyone choruses enthusiastically.

“A little different here.” Kurt pulls up a dress on the screen. “We’ll do a different color of ruffle for each dress, and boys, we’ll wear black ties and each of us in a different color of shirt.”

“I call _not_ pink!” Finn says.

“No pinks,” Kurt assures him. “Darker colors. Jewel tones.” The girls nod, but the rest of the guys just look confused.

“Like what?” Artie asks, voice a little skeptical.

“Green, obviously. A teal or jade, purple, a nice topaz, a berry red, and yes, Brittany. Orange.”

“I call orange!” Brittany beams. “Mike, you should wear the orange shirt, because we’ll probably dance together in at least one song.”

“Red right here!” Santana raises her hand.

“I’d like the green,” Quinn offers, and Kurt starts making notes as they call out their preferences.

“Teal or jade sounds good, I guess,” Mercedes offers.

“I’d like purple, unless you want it, Rachel,” Tina says, but Rachel smiles and shakes her head.

“No, topaz is good for me!”

“Well. That was quick,” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “Boys? You’re not so eager to claim a color?”

“I’ll go with the yellow, too,” Finn says. “Topaz or whatever it’s called.”

“I’ll, uh, take that jade color, I guess,” Sam stammers after Mercedes elbows him.

Mike looks over at Tina, who nods, and Mike speaks up. “Yeah, orange is fine.”

“Purple or red either one is fine,” Puck shrugs, and Kurt just nods before writing something down.

“Artie? Green all right, then?”

“Sure,” Artie shrugs.

“What about you, Kurt?” Finn asks. “Red or purple?”

“Red,” Kurt replies, almost absently. “Puck can wear purple.”

Puck shrugs. That works. It’s not like Kurt’s gonna let him look bad.

“Is that all taken care of then, Kurt?” Finn asks. “Anything else? Hair doo-dads or anything that you need to show us? Fancy hats?” He winks at Kurt. “Seriously, no hats, right?”

“No hats until after we have a really big trophy. When we go out to dinner to celebrate, _that’s_ when you need the fancy hats.”

“I’m not wearing a hat,” Finn grumbles. “I look awful in hats.”

“No, you don’t!” Rachel protests immediately. “And what kind of hats have you worn, anyway?”

“A cowboy hat, that one time,” Finn explains. “And I might have...um...”

“Might have what, Finn?” Kurt asks, clearly suspicious.

“Have, uh,” Finn stammers, then says, all in a rush, “tried on some of your hats when we first moved in together.”

“I _knew_ it,” Kurt narrows his eyes. “They all had a strange odor for weeks.”

“Hey!” Finn protests. “I don’t have an odor! And anyway, they looked awful.”

“That’s because you have a large cranium,” Kurt sniffs.

“Naw, I think it’s because I have a big head, dude,” Finn says. “It looked like those hats that go on Mr. Potato Head, just stuck right on there.”

“ _How_ are you passing A &P,” Kurt mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “We’ll worry about hats when the time comes, all right?”

Finn nods his agreement. “Ok, so outfits and shoes and not hats, check. What’s next?”

“Rehearsing, dude,” Puck points out.

“‘I Gotta Feeling’ it is, then,” Finn agrees.

 

Puck looks up and grins as Kurt slips into the choir room a little before the bell. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Kurt smiles. “Having fun?”

“Let’s just say that score analysis is never going to be my favorite thing.” He looks at the clock and starts putting his stuff away. “So, tomorrow night.”

“What about it?”

“I think we should go out. Maybe head down to Troy or something.” Puck shrugs and steps closer to Kurt, smiling. “I can take you someplace nice and worthy of your fancy clothes.” He traces a finger down Kurt’s nose and then presses it to Kurt’s lips. “And I’ll attempt not to embarrass you with my attire.” Kurt grins and kisses the tip of Puck’s finger.

“All right, if you insist,” Kurt acquiesces.

“Good.” Puck moves his hand to the back of Kurt’s head and takes a chance, kissing him firmly before releasing him. The bell rings just seconds later, and they both sigh and take a seat.

Schue opens the meeting with his usual enthusiasm, asking who would like to perform. Quinn’s hand shoots up, and Schue nods with a smile as she steps to the front of the room. “I thought I’d try my hand at this song,” she says with a smile of her own, “even though it’s technically written for a male voice.”

Puck has to admit that she does well with the vocals, but he’s surprised at the content of the song, and a quick scan of the room shows a few other surprised faces–most notably Rachel’s.

 _And I know some day that it’ll all turn out_  
You'll make me work so we can work to work it out  
And I promise you kid that I give so much more than I get  
I just haven't met you yet

 _I might have to wait, I’ll never give up_  
I guess it's half timin and the other half's luck  
Wherever you are, whenever it's right  
You'll come outta nowhere and into my life

 _And I know that we can be so amazin_  
And baby your love is gonna change me  
And now I can see every possibility

When the song finishes, Quinn doesn’t meet anyone’s eye, but she’s smiling, and not in a sad way. Puck thinks that really, it’s sort of a relief, if she truly does realize that she needs to move on from Finn or Sam or anyone at McKinley, and just wait and see. It could even mean less drama, which makes him snort back a laugh as soon as he thinks it.

“Great interpretation, Quinn, you really did a great job matching that to your range.”

“Thank you, Mr. Schue,” Quinn replies, pleased.

“I have a song!” Brittany bounces to her feet. “Because you said this was artists’ choice and Santana said that meant it was for fun, right? And I like this song, so I want to sing it.”

“Sure, go ahead, Brittany.”

“Great!” With that, Brittany launches into “Grenade,” with a beaming smile on her face throughout, which seems somewhat odd. Or maybe just disconcerting, as she belts out lyrics about pain and death.

 _I would go through all this pain_  
Take a bullet straight through my brain  
Yes, I would die for you, baby

“That was a wonderful performance,” Schue says as he claps at the end, though, and Puck shrugs off the juxtaposition. His English teacher would be so proud if she could hear his thoughts. Well, if she heard _that_ thought.

“Anyone else?”

Kurt shrugs. “It’s just for fun, right?”

“Right!”

“I’ll sing, then,” Kurt stands up and walks towards the piano. “Since none of you got to hear my brilliant performance of ‘Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina,’ I’ll sing another song from _Evita_.”

“Ooh,” Rachel breathes. “I wish I had heard that, Kurt. Are you going to do ‘Another Suitcase in Another Hall’?”

Kurt nods at her, then at Brad, and launches into the song. Puck’s pretty sure it’s another one of those songs that Kurt likes that’s written for a girl to sing, but Kurt’s voice is high enough and it sounds good. Schue does his constipated clap, of course, but most of the rest of the applause is genuine enough.

“Wow, you guys just keep amazing me,” Schue says with a large grin. “I think we can go ahead and quit for the day!” Most of the group rises immediately, heading out the door, but Finn, Kurt, and Puck all stay seated, and Rachel’s standing, but looks as if she’s deliberately stalling. Finally, Schue seems satisfied with whatever he’s doing, and heads towards the door.

“Well, let’s head over to your house!” Rachel exclaims as soon as Schue’s out of earshot. “Are we ready to finish this?”

“Yeah, sure,” Puck nods, grabbing his backpack and his guitar.

“Of course,” Kurt agrees. When Rachel turns towards the door, Kurt and Puck exchange a glance, and Puck takes a deep breath.

“We’ll see you guys back at the house, ok?” Finn says. “Uh, best of luck?”

Puck snorts and rolls his eyes a little. The ride over seems to take longer than Puck can ever remember it taking and Kurt’s jaw looks tight. Finn’s truck is in the driveway and neither Finn nor Rachel is still outside. They walk into the garage and Kurt stops there, pulling Puck close and giving him a quick kiss.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Puck nods, taking a deep breath. “It’s just Rachel, right?”

Kurt smiles a little. “Right.”

They walk straight into the living room, where Finn and Rachel are waiting, Rachel chattering without really giving Finn a chance to respond.

“Oh. Hey guys!” Finn says, diverting his half-attention from Rachel. “So, uh, should we get started? Do we need, you know, refreshments or something?”

“No, no, we can have a nice snack after we’ve made a little progress! Kurt, can I see what you’ve written?”

Kurt hands over a couple of sheets of paper and he sits down on the couch, Puck plopping down beside him. Rachel’s flipped over to the second sheet, humming a little, and Puck takes yet another deep breath. He’s going to be very well oxygenated before this is over.

“So, Super-Sleuth, Finn says you got questions.”

Finn looks pained and like he’s considering making a hasty escape from the room. He starts to rise. “Sit down, Finn!” Kurt half-snaps. Finn sits.

Rachel looks up, startled. “About the song?”

“No, about me.”

“Oh! That!” Rachel looks mildly embarrassed and turns a small scolding look on Finn. “Really, Finn, you make it sound like I was prying.”

“Uh,” Finn says. “I gotta pee. I’m just gonna--” He starts to stand again.

“Sit _down_ , Finn Hudson, or I swear I’m going to show Rachel those videos your mother is so proud of!” Kurt barks. Finn sits.

“Videos? Finn, what videos is he talking about? Kurt, I’m very confused. What do Finn’s videos have to do with Puck?” Rachel looks puzzled and concerned.

Puck groans and shakes his head, one hand on his forehead. “You are ridiculous. Both of you,” he addresses Finn and Rachel. “Just... ask your questions.”

“Well, I’ve just observed several unusual things in the last two and a half months,” Rachel begins. “It seems to me that–”

“Questions, Rachel,” Puck grinds out, and he twists his body slightly, angling it more towards Kurt.

“Your mother’s going to be thrilled,” Kurt says suddenly, giggling, and Puck can’t help but laugh for a moment.

“Yeah, probably,” Puck concedes.

“I didn’t lie to anybody!” Finn blurts out.

“Oookay,” Rachel says, nodding her head very slowly. “I’m even more confused. Noah, are you... and Kurt...”

“Are me and Kurt what?”

“You know... romantically involved?” She ends tentatively, almost cringing, like Puck or Kurt is going to unleash some sort of gay fury on her.

Finn suddenly flails in his seat. “Gay! They’re gay.” He looks mortified at the words that have just come out of his mouth.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Puck says dryly.

“I’m sorry!” Finn yelps. “I couldn’t help it. I think I have Tibet’s syndrome!”

“Tourette’s, Finn and no, you don’t,” Kurt shakes his head.

“Oh. Well.” Rachel blinks and looks startled, as if she can’t believe she was right. “I was right? I was right!” She looks excited, beaming at Puck and Kurt. “How long?”

“How long have I been gay?” Puck asks incredulously.

“I think she means the two of us,” Kurt says, laughing.

“Yes, what Kurt said!” Rachel’s still beaming.

“August,” Puck says, even as Finn says “June.”

Puck stops and stares at Finn, and Kurt does as well. “What are you talking about?” Kurt asks.

“You guys were dating in June, you just hadn’t figured it out yet,” Finn says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I have a lot of friends, dudes, and I don’t hang out with my friends like that. You were dating. It was like ninja dating. So sneaky _you_ didn’t even know it.”

“I _told_ you, I could totally be a gay ninja!” Puck exclaims.

“Man, I figure all this stuff out before you guys,” Finn sighs, shaking his head. “Seriously, you were there. How did you not notice?”

Rachel is staring at the three of them, jaw dropped slightly. “You–how– _August_? Finn, you’ve known? The entire time?”

“ _June_ , and yeah,” Finn says, proudly. “But it’s just like we said in the PFLAG meetings, Rachel. You don’t chop down their closets.”

While Rachel and Finn are talking, Puck’s moved closer to Kurt, and they’ve settled into a comfortable position, more like they’d usually have at the Hudmel house. When Rachel’s attention swings back to them, her face softens a little. “How have you _managed_?”

“Tuesdays.”

“Weekends.”

Puck looks at Kurt and grins.

“Grinding in the kitchen,” Finn adds.

“Finn!” Kurt protests.

“What? It’s _true_!”

Rachel looks vaguely like a fish, mouthing “grinding” repeatedly, her gaze flicking between Kurt and Puck. “I just...” She stops and closes her mouth, clearly thinking about something. “Oh! That means... and...” She beams at them again. “That makes so much more sense now!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome once you get used to it,” Finn says. “They’re all, like, cute and stuff.”

“Gee, thanks,” Puck retorts.

“You’re welcome, dude.”

“So before school started?” Rachel continues, as if the conversation between Finn and Puck hadn’t occurred.

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know the details. I probably don’t wanna know the details. Happy Puck, happy Kurt, see? That’s the whole story, as far as I’m concerned.”

“You two do seem quite happy,” Rachel beams. “Oh! And no wonder you went down to Ikea together!”

“Yeah, and ran into Trey Warbler,” Puck grouses.

“He was very enthusiastic,” Kurt says diplomatically. “Given we were discussing cabinets for bedroom necessities.”

“Aw, _dude_!” Finn exclaims. “Dude!”

“Bedroom necessities?” Rachel looks puzzled. “Like slippers and blankets and... OH!” She blushes a little and then looks at Kurt. “KURT!”

“I _know_ , right?” Finn yelps.

“Oh, good grief,” Kurt sighs, leaning his head on Puck’s shoulders.

“You mean things like condoms and personal lubricant, then,” Rachel says, very matter of factly. “You know, my two gay dads would be happy to–”

“NO!” all three boys exclaim at once.

“Don’t encourage them,” Finn adds. “Seriously. It’s bad enough as it is. They’re so...touchy.”

“The word’s tactile, dude,” Puck corrects him.

“No, I’m pretty sure tactile means sticky,” Finn says.

“No, that’s tacky. Like your wardrobe, Finn,” Kurt shakes his head.

“Dude!”

“This is so exciting!” Rachel gushes. “And your mom?”

“My mother is apparently on some Jewish parents of gays forum, thanks to _your_ mom,” Puck looks pointedly at Finn.

“What? That’s Kurt’s fault, man,” Finn says, putting up his hands. “She was never on those things before Kurt. He’s all _educating_ and stuff.” He pauses for a moment. “We all have t-shirts,” he says to Rachel, as an aside.

“S’not my fault,” Kurt mutters. “It’s my fault I left the lube out that day, but.”

Puck chuckles. “I think we can blame the cupcakes for that one.”

“Cupcakes? Aw, _dude_!” Finn groans. “I bought one of those cupcakes.”

“The cupcakes were in the _kitchen_ ,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Baking. In the oven.”

“You left lube in the kitchen? Oh, dude.”

“No!” Kurt breaks in, face bright pink. “Just... not in the drawer. Where it goes.”

“I can’t unlearn this,” Finn sighs. “This is my life now. It’s all stories about cupcakes and lube and, and, and I don’t even _know_ any more.”

“You see queer people, brother dear.”

“I _do_ ,” Finn nods. “It’s true.”

“This is all _so_ fascinating,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “OH! The song! F.K.!”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Sweet, huh?” Finn says.

“So, you’re like, number ten or something. If I include myself.”

Rachel tilts her head. “Ten? Let’s see. The four of you here, the three Puckermans, myself, and...”

“Coach Beiste,” Finn says. “She totally caught them in the hallway.”

“In the hallway!” Rachel says, scandalized. “During school?”

“After school,” Puck confesses. “On a Thursday.”

“What on earth were you doing in the hallway?” Rachel asks.

“Just kissing,” Kurt says mildly.

“Oh, it’s never _just_ kissing,” Finn snorts, rolling his eyes.

Kurt narrows his eyes at Finn a little and sniffs.

“What? You know it’s true.”

“Any other questions, Rachel?”

“No,” Rachel says slowly. “Not right now. I’m sure I will later!”

“Are we done with this conversation now?” Finn asks. “Can we work on the song, please?”

“Of course, of course,” Rachel nods. “Oh, wait! New York! No wonder you were so evasive when I asked you both about roommates!”

“Focus, Rachel!” Finn says. “The song!”

“Oh, right.” She smiles sheepishly. “I’m just so happy for you both! Mazel tov!”

“L’chayim,” Finn and Kurt chorus, neither one of them appearing to put any actual thought into the reaction, and Puck loses it laughing.

Kurt starts giggling, too, after a moment. It takes Finn a moment to understand something is funny and then another moment to figure out _what_ , but then he joins in the laughter, too. “Yeah, us and our Jews, Kurt.”

“You should have been there on Rosh Hashanah,” Kurt says, nodding.

Finn shakes his head sadly. “Some people are just so ignorant about other cultures.”

Puck just stares at him. He starts to bring up that Finn was interviewing him about Hanukkah just a few weeks ago, but then remembers that the whole point was supposed to be so that Finn didn’t have to ask Rachel directly.

Rachel looks at Finn adoringly, though, after Finn speaks, and Puck just shakes his head. Kurt lifts his head up, looking at Puck with his eyebrows raised, and Puck grins, kissing him softly.

It’s not _his_ fault if Kurt decides to deepen the kiss, but he’s not complaining, either.

“Awww,” Rachel’s voice penetrates. “That’s so sweet.”

Puck pulls away and rolls his eyes a little, but he’s suppressing a slight smile, and he can make out a dimple on Kurt’s face.

“Ok, you guys,” Finn says, in his Leadership Qualities voice. “ _Now_ we’re working on the song.”

They make a lot of progress, including Puck modifying the melody in a few places. Most of the lyrics are nearly finished when Carole gets home and pops her head into the living room.

“Hi, everyone.”

“Hey, Mrs. H.”

“Hello!”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Carole.”

“Are you staying for dinner, Rachel?”

“Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.”

“Great.” Carole smiles and disappears again.

Rachel tilts her head and frowns, then lowers her voice. “She didn’t ask if Puck was staying for dinner,” she points out, clearly upset.

“It’s Thursday,” Puck answers.

“He’s always here on Thursdays,” Finn explains. “Mom doesn’t have to ask.”

“Yeah, that,” Puck nods.

“So...” Rachel tilts her head, like she’s trying to figure something out. “Kurt, you’re never here on Monday nights.”

“No, he’s at Puck’s on Mondays,” Finn says, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “That’s family dinner night for the Puckermans.”

Kurt just nods his agreement with Finn’s statement, and Rachel gets yet another odd look on her face, her gaze flicking from Puck to Kurt and back again. Puck figures they’ve probably given her a lot to process in a little bit of time. “C’mon, let’s finish this up before we eat,” he suggests.

“Yes, I think we’re nearly there.”

 

Puck gets to sleep in again on Friday morning, and Kurt walks up to the apartment to greet him, wearing some kind of sweater that looks like it’s been scissored with a reddish-colored shirt underneath. He’s got a warm-looking scarf wrapped around his neck, too, with a heavy-looking coat that Puck’s sure will disappear into Kurt’s locker almost immediately upon arrival.

“Good morning,” Puck breathes with a grin, sliding his arms under Kurt’s coat and pulling him close. Kurt just smiles and closes the rest of the distance between them, one hand on Puck’s cheek, pressing their lips together.

“It is,” Kurt agrees as he pulls back after a moment. He slides his hand down Puck’s arm and wraps their fingers together. “Ready?”

“Unless I can convince you to skip school,” Puck grins.

“Tempting as that is, we probably shouldn’t,” Kurt sighs, tugging gently on Puck’s hand and heading down the hall.

Puck frowns but nods, walking close to Kurt as they head downstairs and then outside. Then he chuckles for a moment. “I don’t think anyone else knows I’m not working this morning.”

Kurt laughs, too. “That will surprise them.” They do reach the Starbucks before anyone else, and they’re sitting down with coffee and food before anyone else walks in.

Finn and Rachel are the first to arrive. “Done early?” Finn asks, seeing Puck in his street clothes.

Puck smirks. “I don’t have to work on Friday mornings anymore, man.”

“Oh, cool,” Finn nods. “So do you not wanna meet up here on Fridays any more? I mean, I don’t want you to have to come here on your day off.”

“I still have to eat,” Puck shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me either way.”

“Breakfast _is_ an important meal,” Rachel breaks in, nodding.

The others spill in after that, and Puck repeats the same conversation, more or less, a few more times. Everyone’s in a good mood, discussing their plans for the evening (“since there’s no game tonight”) and the rest of the weekend (“don’t forget about rehearsal at my house on Sunday evening!”). Ms. Horatio gives them all a wave as they leave and head for school, fingers wrapped tightly around warm coffee cups in a futile effort to keep them warm. Even Puck’s feeling a little cold, so he can’t imagine how Kurt feels. Kurt’s nose is bright red from the cold and it looks like he’s trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“You need another layer, blue eyes,” Puck says under his breath, and Kurt just nods.

“I don’t know how you survive with just, what, two layers?” Kurt says as they climb into the Nav.

“I guess my coat’s nice and heavy,” Puck shrugs. “Or you’re actually like, a lizard or something.”

“A lizard?”

“A cute lizard,” Puck amends. “You know, one of those really colorful ones that everyone likes to take pictures of.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s intended to be a compliment,” Kurt says wryly, “though it’s a strange one.”

“My little lizard,” Puck grins.

Kurt just shakes his head, laughing slightly as they climb out of the Nav and walk into the school with the rest of the club.

 

Schue is predictably perky at the glee club meeting. “So! What have you guys got for us?” He claps his hands together and looks around the room expectantly. Mercedes stands up after a second and saunters to the front of the room.

“I’ll be performing ‘I Remember Me’ by Jennifer Hudson,” she announces. Puck mentally shrugs; he’s not sure who that even is, and the first bars of the music don’t give me any other clue. It’s well-suited for Mercedes, though, as she belts out the lyrics.

 _But I remember me, I remember me_  
It don't matter where I go, what I'm told, now you know  
I remember me, I remember me  
Even if I say goodbye, start to cry, do or die  
I remember me 

_I tell you what my name is_  
And ain't nothing gon' change it  
Cuz what you are is what you are  
Even if your memory's flawed  
I go to places, trying to find familiar faces  
They don't show, but I still know  
They don't have to look for me  
I dream about, I dream about  
The place where all the broken pieces fit together 

“That was wonderful, Mercedes,” Rachel comments immediately. “I think I like your version better than the original!”

Of course, that could mean that Rachel hates the original, Puck’s brain can’t help supplying, but Mercedes smiles brightly and thanks Rachel as she sits down.

“I’d like to go next,” Artie volunteers, and at Mr. Schue’s nod, he rolls to the front. “This is ‘Tighten Up,’ by The Black Keys.”

Unsurprisingly, Artie’s half-singing and half-speaking.

 _When I was young and moving fast_  
Nothing slowed me down, slowed me down  
Now I let the others pass  
I've come around, come around

 _Living just to keep going_  
Going just to stay sane  
All the while never knowing  
It's such a shame

“Dude, that’s pretty sweet!” Finn says, offering Artie a high-five as he rolls back to his spot amidst the chairs.

“Thanks,” Artie nods, smiling slightly.

“Anyone else?” Schue asks. Puck should probably feel bad that he didn’t do something, he thinks, but he also thinks he has enough other stuff on his plate.

“I have a song!” Tina bounds out of her seat. “This is ‘Remember December.’”

The music is vaguely familiar, but Tina has a lot of fun with it, and some of the others get up and dance a little, too.

 _Don't surrender, surrender, surrender_  
Please remember, remember, December  
We were so in love back then,  
Now you're listening  
To what they say  
Don't go that way

“That was great, Tina!” Schue walks over to the whiteboard. “I was really struggling for a theme this week, but then I remembered some of our previous opponents at Sectionals, in other years, and the disadvantages with which they were working. So!” He turns to the board, uncapping the marker, and writes a single word. “Senses! Let’s see what you come up with for this theme!”

Puck blinks for a minute, then shakes his head. He can hear Kurt trying not to laugh, and most of the girls are either startled or holding back giggles.

Finn raises his hand, his face a mask of bland innocence. “Mr. Schue. Shouldn’t we have a lesson about songs with good touches and songs with bad touches first?” He can’t hold the blank look and breaks into a big grin.

Kurt just dissolves into laughter, almost hysterical, before Finn even finishes the sentence. Finn turns his head to look at Kurt and stage whispers, “Hey Kurt. Show me on the sheet music where he touched you.”

If it’s possible, Kurt loses even more control, his laughs loud and getting higher. He wipes at his eyes and looks away from Finn, as if the mere sight of Finn would cause more laughter. “You win that one,” he gasps out after a minute. Rachel looks up at Puck for a split second, as if he might be able to explain it, but he just shakes his head slightly. He’s as clueless as the rest of them, on this one.

Finn grins and waggles his eyebrows. “I’m _awesome_!”

Schue continues staring at the two of them for a long moment before clearly his throat. “Well. Thank you for that impressive show of brotherly camaraderie.” He glances at the clock. “I’ll see you all on Monday!”

With that, he heads towards the door.

“Finn,” Rachel asks. “What was that about the bad touches? What’s going on?”

“Some songs just don’t respect boundaries, Rachel,” Finn explains, as though that makes everything perfectly clear. Which, to Finn and Kurt, it probably does.

 

Puck’s stats professor lets them out early, as he does every Friday, and he watches Mike long enough to know he and Tina are apparently parked in a different lot. Puck smiles to himself and unlocks the Nav, settling himself into the driver’s seat.

Kurt raises an eyebrow but smiles and climbs into the passenger seat, passing Puck the key. “You have a need to drive?”

“I’m going to drop you off at your place,” Puck explains, “and you’re going to get ready to go out, and I’m going to do the same, and then I’m going to come back and pick you up.”

“What about dinner?”

“Remember when I disappeared for a few minutes last night?” At Kurt’s nod, he continues, smirking. “Yeah, I made sure your dad was okay with it.”

“You’ve thought of everything, it seems,” Kurt says, but he’s grinning.

“I tried, anyway,” Puck laughs. When they pull up at Kurt’s house, he doesn’t even shut off the engine. “I’ll be back at 4:30.”

“I’ll be waiting, then,” Kurt replies, and leans across the console to kiss Puck’s cheek. “Be good.”

“I’m always good.” Puck grins and waits until Kurt’s inside before pulling out and heading to the apartment. He does take a quick shower and then digs around in his closet, looking for something nice to wear. He finally settles on one of the shirts his mom insisted on buying, in a color Hannah insisted was “marine blue” or something, and a pair of grey pants. He puts on a belt and black shoes from one of their competitions, even though he has no idea if black shoes are what you’re supposed to wear with grey pants or not.

He’s still got time to kill, so he sits down and checks his email and reads Facebook (apparently Finn needs more ammunition or something for a hit in Mafia Wars, and Rachel wants a pig for her farm) before he heads back downstairs and climbs in the Nav.

When he gets to Kurt’s, he parks and walks up to the front door, thinking absently that he can’t remember the last time he actually did that. He knocks and waits for about twenty seconds before Kurt swings the door open with a smile.

Puck feels his breath catch a little as his eyes travel over Kurt. He’s wearing a grey and black suit with a light pink shirt and a darker pink tie, and Kurt’s smile gets a little wider as he looks at Puck. “Let me just get my coat,” Kurt says softly after a second, and he reappears with a thick black coat. Puck steps forward and holds it for him, and Kurt turns his head to kiss Puck softly. “So, where are we going?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,” Puck grins. “At least for a little while.” They climb in and Puck immediately starts the engine, turning the heat up. “Warm?”

“Yes, thank you.” Kurt smiles and reaches across to take Puck’s hand. “This is nice,” he sighs, and Puck nods.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Who knew Noah Puckerman could be such a romantic?”

Puck grins. “I haven’t watched all those movies for nothing, blue eyes.”

“That’s true,” Kurt agrees. “I still don’t think many people would know that.” Puck glances over momentarily to see a smug smile on Kurt’s face.

“Probably not,” he agrees, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “I think we’re both okay with that.”

“Yes. We are.” Kurt squeezes his hand in return. “Hmm. You’re taking us south.”

“I am,” Puck nods. “If that’s all right with you?”

“It is.” Kurt grins.

They flip on the radio and listen to it, talking a little about Mr. Schue’s latest assignment scheme and singing along with some of the songs that play. It only takes about forty-five more minutes before Puck’s steering them off the interstate and into downtown Troy, such as that is. He finds a parking spot and then they walk towards the restaurant Puck managed to find online.

“Ooh, this looks nice,” Kurt says, leaning against Puck as they walk towards the door. “We’re eating here?”

“Yep,” Puck confirms, and they walk into the warm lobby with a little relief. Puck’s not cold like Kurt, but all his jackets looked ridiculous with the rest of his outfit, so he just went with his wifebeater and shirt. Kurt does his typical uncurling, shedding his coat gracefully and folding it over his arm.

They’re seated quickly, and after Kurt slides in, Puck slides in right beside him, putting Kurt’s coat on the other seat. Kurt orders some kind of tuna for an appetizer, but it’s amazing, spicy and delicious, even if it is mostly uncooked.

Puck’s torn on the entree, finally settling on a chipotle pork chop, while Kurt orders some kind of shrimp pasta that has sausage and capers and a cream sauce.

“You know we could see someone from that Troy show choir or something,” Kurt points out, then rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I think seeing Trey in Cincinnati, of all places, has made me paranoid.”

“Yeah, but we’re not _that_ memorable, surely,” Puck points out. “And this is a very cozy little corner.”

“Yes, it is,” Kurt agrees, smiling again. “I quite like it, actually.”

“Good.” Puck kisses Kurt’s cheek and rests an arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “You want dessert here?”

“Sure,” Kurt agrees. “We should get two and share.”

“Which two?”

“Mmm. The strawberries with the kahlua sauce, definitely.”

“And the triple chocolate cake?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They place their dessert order, which arrives quickly. At first, they each eat from one plate, then take a bite from the other, but then Kurt picks up a strawberry, dips it in the sauce, and holds it up to Puck’s lips. Puck grins and takes a bite, and when it’s all gone, Kurt runs his thumb over Puck’s chin, catching the drips of sauce. Then he holds his thumb up to Puck’s lips, and Puck flicks his tongue out, pulling Kurt’s thumb just barely into his mouth.

Kurt smiles, slow and warm, and Puck wraps his tongue around Kurt’s thumb again before releasing it. “That’s a dangerous game, blue eyes,” he says finally, voice low.

“Mmm. Maybe,” Kurt murmurs. “Fun, though.”

“It is.” Puck mirrors Kurt’s actions, and Kurt grins before carefully licking Puck’s thumb clean.

“We’re good,” Kurt says after that. “We can... control ourselves. Right?”

“That depends on how many of those strawberries are left,” Puck mutters, and Kurt giggles quietly. He slides a hand over Puck’s thigh and lets it rest there, Puck moving slightly towards him. They finish the rest of their desserts rather quickly, and Puck decides to leave a relatively large tip, because the server did a great job of leaving them mostly alone.

Kurt slips back into his coat and they walk down the square, passing businesses that are mostly closed for the evening. “Oh, you should take Hannah to Color Me Mine and have her make something for your mom, for Hanukkah,” Kurt suggests, passing by a similar looking store.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Puck nods. “Now that Hannah’s old enough for it not to be a brown mess at the end.”

“There is that,” Kurt agrees. He grins, impishly. “I should avoid taking Finn still, then.”

Puck laughs. “Oh, you are awful. Positively awful.” He pulls Kurt closer. “Cold?”

“A little. It’s pretty out, though.” The residents of Troy are apparently eager for the holidays, because there are white lights everywhere already.

“It is. You want to get some coffee?” Puck points to a coffee shop ahead and on the other side of the street.

“Sure.” They cross the street and Puck gets to watch Kurt unfold a little again.

“Weird. Flavored espresso,” Puck comments, and Kurt nods a little.

“Americano?”

“Of course. What about you?”

“Hmmm. I think I’ll try the cafe caramel breve. Something a little different.”

Puck pulls them into an oversized chair, barely wide enough for them both to sit, and they keep sitting there a long time after their drinks are finished, watching people and talking quietly, arms around each other. “We should probably leave,” Puck says finally, regretful.

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, sighing and then standing. “I had a lovely evening.” He grins. “If you were to try to get into my pants, you would definitely succeed.”

“I thought I would anyway,” Puck laughs, murmuring into Kurt’s ear.

“That’s true.” Kurt kisses Puck softly. “Or I might try to get into yours.”

“Also something that would be successful.”

The night is clear and while they’re on the interstate, Kurt leans against the passenger window and stares at the stars. “There’s so many of them. No light pollution.” He straightens a little. “We won’t be able to see them so well next year. A trade I am more than willing to make.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, me too.”

It’s pitch-black and probably really close to Kurt’s curfew when they get back to Lima, but Kurt walks Puck up the stairs and to the door of his apartment. Puck’s not sure which of them initiates the kiss, their arms around each other, but he does register that it’s Kurt who deepens it, their mouths open and pressing on each other. Kurt’s tongue slides down Puck’s and then around his mouth, mapping it out. Puck moves his arms, cupping Kurt’s face and head in his hands, and after another moment, Kurt mirrors the action.

It’s a long time before either of them pulls away, and Puck rests his forehead against Kurt’s for a moment before kissing him again. They’re melting against each other, and Puck absently thinks that it would be easy, so easy, to slip quietly inside the apartment, to shut the door to his bedroom and slowly peel off their clothes. The thought makes Puck press closer to Kurt and tangle his fingers in Kurt’s hair.

Kurt finally breaks their kiss, pulling away a little farther than before. “I have to go,” he says, voice full of regret.

“I can sneak you in,” Puck offers, just in case.

“Oh, god, I want to,” Kurt confesses quietly. “But I know we shouldn’t. I’ll see you at lunchtime?”

“Yeah.” Puck sighs. “Okay, blue eyes. If you say so.”

Kurt smiles slightly. “I say so, reluctantly. Be good, baby.”

“I’m always good.” Puck brushes his lips over Kurt’s a final time before opening the door and stepping inside. He leans against the door for a long moment before heading towards his room and getting undressed. He climbs under his sheets and for the first time the whole night, he feels more than a little cold. He shivers and sighs; one day.

 

Puck’s mom is thrilled when he comes with them to services for a second week in a row. He doesn’t mention that it’s mostly because Kurt’s been working on Saturday mornings, figuring that what Rina doesn’t know doesn’t really hurt her. This week, Rachel walks over to them, her dads trailing along behind her, already chattering a mile a minute. Puck mostly nods when Rachel looks expectantly at him. Occasionally she looks like she wants to ask him something, but she changes her mind each time, shaking her head a little and then talking about something absolutely frivolous, even for Rachel.

Kurt’s decided that they should mostly work on Saturday this week, to which Puck made a face but eventually agreed, because their marathon Sunday study sessions are now more like a couple of hours, if that, before eating dinner and going to rehearsal. So after lunch, Saturday stretches in front of them, a sea of math and pink monkey notes and rough drafts of multiple papers. By the time Rina serves dinner, Puck feels like he’s been through a wringer, and Kurt’s looking a little wild around the eyes. So Puck makes a decision and pulls Kurt to his feet as soon as they’re done. “We’re gonna go out for just a bit, Mom,” he announces. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“We are?” Kurt asks.

“Yep.” Puck waits long enough for Kurt to grab his jacket, pulling his own on, and marches them down the stairs. “We’ve been working for something insane like five hours straight. We’re going to go get dessert at that new little cafe down the street and _then_ we’ll finish up for the day.”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt concedes, smiling a little. “It’s possible I got a little too obsessed with getting as much as possible done.”

“Hey, it’s not a bad idea, finishing almost everything for the week,” Puck agrees. “Especially since you’re going to miss class a week from Monday. But I think it’s making you a little frantic.”

“Maybe,” Kurt concedes. They get baklava and coffee, and Puck shoves his hands into his pockets as they wait in line. It’s not that other cities are perfect; Puck’s pretty sure he heard a few whispers and caught a few looks when they were in Troy the night before. It’s just that the people in Troy or wherever aren’t going to know who they are and see them again in a day or a week or a month, and be able to do more than just look and whisper.

That gets Puck’s brain going again, and Kurt has to nudge him forward when the line moves, looking at him a little worriedly. “M’fine,” Puck reassures him. “Just thinking.”

“All right,” Kurt nods, but he seems a little dubious. The baklava is wonderful, and when they walk back to Puck’s apartment and start working again, Kurt’s a lot less obsessive and Puck manages to feel less panicky in his brain. Kurt leaves earlier than Puck might like, but he has to admit that he’s already feeling tired, and he has to open in the morning.

“I’ll come pick you up?”

“Please,” Puck nods. Walking to work and from work hadn’t been bad, even in the mornings when he started back in the spring, but with it getting colder, he’d like every opportunity to not have to walk.

Puck walks down the stairs with Kurt for no other reason than to have a few more minutes before Kurt heads home, and Kurt stops just inside the stairwell to kiss him. “No need for you to get cold, baby. Be good.”

“I’m always good,” Puck returns with a smile, and Kurt slips out into the cold night.

 

They only study for about an hour on Sunday, spending the rest of the time talking about Schue’s assignment and playing their song for everyone else.

“I have an absolutely perfect song for the assignment,” Kurt sighs. “Perfect. It’s called ‘Touch Me,’ it’s from a Broadway show... and I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

Kurt laughs and pulls up a new window on his laptop. “Read the lyrics.”

“Oh, yeah,” Puck guffaws. “I don’t think you could do that. Schue’d stroke out.”

“Yes. Alas.” Kurt sighs. “I think I’ll mention it on Tuesday, though. Just for the look on Rachel’s face.”

“No one else would know it?”

“ _Spring Awakening_ is a relatively new show, so I doubt it. I’ve made Mercedes and Tina listen to it a time or two but they’re unlikely to remember a specific song by name, I think.”

“Too bad you can’t sing it. We could record everyone’s faces as it dawns on them what the song is about.”

“Blackmail materials.” Kurt lets out a content sigh. “That would be so nice.”

“Devious.”

“Yes. Well, so I have no idea what I am going to do. Do you?”

“I think I’ll do ‘Touch Me,’ except the Doors song, not your raunchy little showtune,” Puck grins.

“I’m pretty sure that most people don’t usually think of showtunes as raunchy.”

“It kind of is, blue eyes.”

“Point.”

When they start talking about their still-untitled song, Rina overhears them and starts pressing for details until Puck finally claims they need to study, just to get her to leave the room. Then Kurt feels badly, so they do actually study for a little while, until Rina comes back to announce that dinner is ready–or, well, there, since they’ve ordered in Chinese.

 

Carole can’t help but check that the upstairs bedrooms are empty, even though she knows she saw Finn, Puck, and Kurt all leave in Kurt’s Navigator thirty minutes earlier. She’s been torn about having this conversation for weeks now; technically what Rina told her was told in confidence. Still, though, she’s used the intervening time to make her own observations, and she feels like she can initiate this discussion without also feeling like she’s betraying anyone’s trust.

Burt’s watching the Sunday evening football game, as he usually is in the autumn, but he was grumbling at dinner about how the two teams playing were both pretty bad, and he didn’t really like either one. She doesn’t think he’ll mind _too_ much if she talks to him now, and really, the two or three hours where they are both gone on Sunday evenings is about the only time she feels comfortable having this particular topic broached.

Carole steps into the living room and sits down next to Burt on the couch, then reaches for the remote. “Mind if I mute this for a few moments?”

“Go ahead,” Burt nods. “They’re playing for crap anyway.”

Carole nods and hits the mute button. “I... you’re not going to like this conversation very much, honey.”

Burt sighs. “Let me guess. One of the boys, right?”

“Isn’t it usually?” Carole says lightly. Burt raises an eyebrow at her. She takes one of Burt’s hands in both of hers. “I just think you might,” she pauses, thinking about how to phrase it, “want to continue that conversation you started with Kurt back in the winter.”

“Oh?” Burt asks, his voice strained. “What conversation exactly?”

“Don’t play dumb, Burt,” Carole says with a shake of her head. “I think you know. The one about sex.”

“Carole,” Burt asks “what do you know that I don’t?”

“I don’t _know_ anything for sure,” Carole stresses. “I just have my own observations, and Rina’s.”

Burt shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Well, you may as well tell me what you and Rina have observed. I already don’t like where this is going.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Carole acknowledges. “I mean, some of it is the same things you see, I’m sure–their body language, their level of comfort with each other.” She pauses, waiting for his response.

Burt looks at Carole expectantly. “And?”

“Well.” Carole looks a trifle embarrassed. “There’s been an inordinate amount of sheet-changing.”

“Oh.” Burt sinks down in his seat a little. “You don’t think, I mean, they’re not...”

“I do think,” Carole says gently.

“But they’re so _young_ ,” Burt protests. “And they haven’t even been together that long. This is Puckerman’s doing, I’ll tell you what.”

“They are eighteen, both of them,” Carole points out. “And do you really think anyone could make Kurt do something he didn’t want to do?”

“Puck could be pressuring him,” Burt suggests.

Carole smiles, almost indulgently. “And Kurt would be so happy?”

“He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what he wants yet.” Burt frowns. “Are you sure they’re doing what you think they’re doing?”

Carole sighs. She hadn’t wanted to bring this up. “Rina told me that Noah admitted as much to her.”

“Did she ask him if they were being careful?” Burt asks, “Because kids can be pretty dumb. They can do a lot of dumb stuff.”

“Yes, she did, and he apparently said that they were. Or, well, he nodded. Boys,” Carole shakes her head fondly.

“I knew I should have put him in a convent school,” Burt snorts. When Carole raises her eyebrows, Burt says, “I’m just kidding, honey. This is just... _hard_. I mean, I knew it had gotten serious fast, but I didn’t realize it was this kind of serious.”

Carole nods. “I know, Burt. And I know you thought once Blaine was out of the picture, you wouldn’t have to worry about this for awhile.”

“I’ll be honest, I thought we’d have more trouble from Finn and Rachel than from Kurt and, well, anybody,” Burt sighs. “I mean, Finn’s a good kid, but he’s not as fingers-in-ears about this kind of stuff as Kurt’s always been.”

“I know,” Carole laughs. “But Kurt’s still a teenage boy, honey. And I think it would be good if you talked to him again, is all.”

Burt makes a face. “Do I gotta?” he grumbles. “Can’t I give him some more pamphlets or something? I’m really not ready for the ‘so you and your boyfriend are having adult time together’ conversation.”

Carole suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at Burt’s phrasing. “I don’t think they make a pamphlet like that.”

“How about one on ‘how to not give your old man another heart attack with your boyfriend shenanigans?’”

“You might scare him with that one,” Carole shakes her head. “You and I both know what would happen then: more tofu.”

Burt shudders. “The only realistic solution here is to forbid them to see each other, lock Kurt in a box, and put out a hit on Puckerman.” He sighs again. “Or I guess I’ve gotta talk to him. Sometimes I hate being the dad.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure the conversation will be equally mortifying for Kurt.”

“Yeah, that’s real reassuring, honey,” Burt says, planting a kiss on Carole’s cheek.

“Just try to make it as embarrassing as possible for him,” Carole continues, “and at least you’ll be able to tease him about it for years to come.”

 

Rina shoos them out of the apartment as soon as the last bite is scraped from their containers and into their mouths, telling them to hurry up so they can go show off their song. Puck rolls his eyes but grabs his notebook and his guitar while Kurt packs his bag, and then they head down the stairs to the Nav.

“We’re picking up Finn?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah. Knowing him, he’s standing out on the porch, complaining about how cold it is, even though one of us could call him or text him as soon as we get close.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

And, sure enough, Finn is hopping from one foot to the other as he stands on the Hudmel porch, hands shoved into the pockets on his jacket. Kurt shakes his head and pulls up next to the curb while Finn dashes to the Nav.

“Dude, it is _cold_ out here!” Finn complains.

“You could have waited inside,” Kurt says, with the air of one who has explained this. Repeatedly.

“But then you guys would have to get out and get me,” Finn says, tilting his head in puzzlement. “And then we’d be late.”

“Dude,” Puck snorts. “It’s called a cell phone. And we’re already getting there ten minutes early, remember?”

Finn shrugs, or at least shifts in a way that indicates a shrug, since it’s too dark for Puck to actually see Finn. “That’s what Rachel said for us to do.”

“I’m not sure it’s actually necessary,” Kurt interjects, “but we’re doing it anyway.”

It doesn’t take long to reach the Berrys’, and the three of them climb out and head towards the door. Finn knocks on the door, three loud bangs that probably resonate through the entire house, and definitely echo down the street.

Mr. Berry opens the door–Leroy Berry, that is–and smiles at the three of them. “Come in, boys. Good to see you.” He nods at Finn and claps Kurt on the shoulder. “I have to say, Kurt, I’m looking forward to your staying with us next week.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says with a smile. “I really do appreciate it. It made my dad much more comfortable with my coming back on Monday evening.”

“Not at all,” Leroy smiles. “I know Rachel’s excited, too.”

As if conjured, Rachel sweeps into the room then. “Daddy! Let them go!” She turns to them and smiles. “Are we ready?” Then she steps closer to Finn, who puts his arm around her shoulders affectionately, keeping an appropriate amount of space between their bodies, before kissing her on top of the head.

“Sure,” Puck says easily. “Let’s run through it real quick before the others get here.”

“Great!” Rachel enthuses, and leads them down into the basement. Puck has a little jolt of remembering, as they descend the stairs, that until the others get there, he and Kurt _can_ hold hands or whatever, because Rachel does know. He smiles a little and grabs Kurt’s hand, squeezing it before intertwining their fingers.

Rachel’s already set up her keyboard, and Puck does let go of Kurt’s hand to pull out his guitar, then passes the music to Kurt, who walks over to the keyboard.

“Can we get a snack first?” Finn asks.

“No! We need to be done with our run-through before any of the others arrive!” Rachel protests.

“Let’s just do it,” Puck says. “Hit it, blue eyes.”

Rachel looks over at Finn, who just shrugs and grins. Kurt nods and begins to play the opening notes, and Puck comes in on the guitar two measures later. Rachel sings the first verse, Finn the second, and they sing together on the chorus and subsequent parts. When they finish, Rachel smiles brightly. “That sounds so good! Okay, I’ll go get the snacks and see if anyone is here!” With that, she disappears up the stairs.

“We’re so awesome!” Finn says. “Look at us!”

“I am looking,” Kurt says dryly, but he’s smiling. “All I can see is your unfortunate attire.”

“What? It’s a rugby shirt,” Finn protests. “It’s colorful! I thought you liked colorful.”

“It’s not a rugby shirt,” Kurt sniffs. “It’s a long-sleeved polo shirt, for some reason, with hideous colorblocking decorating it.”

“Does he do this to you?” Finn asks, turning to Puck.

Puck grins and exchanges a glance with Kurt. “Nah, we discussed our differing fashion senses up front.”

“It’s true,” Kurt nods. “We did. Puck knew it was important.”

Finn shakes his head. “Well, I think it looks fine. It’s Lacoste. That’s nice stuff.”

Kurt leans close to Puck and whispers in his ear. “I think he and Rachel get their fashion advice from each other.” Puck snorts back a laugh.

Rachel reappears then, holding a platter of cookies, Santana, Quinn, and Brittany behind her. “Cookies!” she announces. “They’re tasty, kosher, _and_ vegan!”

“Mr. Leroy makes them,” Finn explains, helping himself to three of the shortbread cookies. “They’re _so_ good. He told me he’d show me how to make them and since there’s only, like, four things in them, I probably won’t even screw them up that much.”

“Remind me to be out of the house that day,” Kurt announces to the room at large with a smirk.

There’s a clatter at the stairs, then, and Mercedes and Tina appear, their respective boyfriends carrying Artie’s wheelchair (with Artie in it, which is good, Puck thinks, because carrying it without Artie would sort of be a dickhead thing to do) down the stairs.

“Alright, everybody,” Finn says, narrowly avoiding spraying Rachel with shortbread crumbs. “Oops, sorry, Rach. So, we’ve got a little something we’d like to show off to you guys. Puck, you have anything you’d like to say about the song before we start?”

Puck shakes his head, swinging his guitar strap back over his head. “I’m good.”

Kurt walks back to the keyboard and nods before starting the song, and they do it just as they did a few minutes before, though Puck thinks Finn and Rachel may have sung a few more parts together rather than alternating. It’s not a big deal and doesn’t really affect the song.

When the music stops, there’s stunned silence for a moment.

“So, uh, what do you think?” Finn asks.

“You four wrote that?” Mercedes asks, looking between them. “That is a-maz-ing.”

“Totally,” Brittany nods. “That was, like, even more awesome than ‘My Headband.’”

“That was pretty dope,” Artie agrees.

Mike speaks up next, his arm around Tina, holding her against his side. “It was really romantic, but just like you said, it wasn’t in-your-face, either.” Tina nods, smiling.

“Thanks,” Finn grins. “I mean, it was mostly Kurt and Rachel with the verses, and Puck already had the last line of the chorus written before we started, so mostly they should be thanking you, but,” he shrugs, a little bashful, “thanks.”

“It was so much fun!” Rachel gushes. “So you guys think we should use it? Does it work with our other songs? Tina? Mike?” She’s tripping over her words, and takes a deep breath like she’s gearing up for another round of questions.

“Breathe, Rachel,” Kurt says calmly, stepping up beside her. “Give them a chance to talk,” he adds, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh. Right.” She returns the smile and walks over to Finn, tucking herself under his arm.

“I think so.” Tina’s the first to respond. “If we use it first, I think it’ll work well.”

There are various nods before Mike speaks up. “It won’t need much choreography, like you said. Are you two going to sing it?”

“Only if the group thinks that’s the best choice,” Finn states. “I mean, I know me and Rachel doing a duet is kind of a _thing_ , but we all get to decide this time if it’s the right kind of thing.”

“Well, I’m going to fight for a solo,” Mike laughs.

“I think it makes sense, given the other two songs,” Tina says slowly, clearly thinking through it in her head. “If that’s okay with everyone else?”

There are a few general murmurs of agreement. “I think it’s best,” Puck offers, and maybe it’s because he wrote the song, but that seems to settle it.

“Ok then,” Finn says, nodding his head. “Well, so we should do a little rehearsing now. Everybody brought their dancing shoes?”

Brittany shrugs. “All of my shoes are my dancing shoes.”

“None of my shoes are my dancing shoes,” Finn laughs.


	3. Rhinofishes (a 3x08 bonus fic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave could use a friend. Casey could be one.

“Thanks for waiting,” Casey says. “We can go. I don’t want you to be any later than you already are because of me.”

Dave shrugs. “Dual enrollment, I don’t have to be over there for another forty-five minutes. Not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Casey looks up at Dave from the corners of his eyes and they make their way down the hall. “I don’t think anybody’s gonna bother me or anything. You don’t have to stay with me or anything. You know, if you have places. That you need to be.” He fiddles with the strap of his backpack, hikes the bag higher on his shoulder, and winces a little.

“Here, let me take that,” Dave insists, taking the backpack from Casey and letting it dangle from his hand.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that!” Casey reaches for his bag. “You’ve already done way, way too much.”

Dave holds Casey’s backpack just out of Casey’s reach and smiles, shaking his head. “You’re wincing, Casey. No way.”

Casey gives Dave a small, sweet smile, though his eyes look sad. “It’s not so bad, really. I heal quick.”

“Well, you’ll heal even quicker this way.” Dave holds a door open as they cross back into another part of the school. “Right?”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Casey twists a little piece of his gingery hair, falling across his forehead and over his eye. “All of you have been so _nice_ to me,” he says, his voice soft and full of awe, like he can’t believe his luck.

“Everybody _else_ should be nicer then,” Dave says, frowning. Casey just shrugs a little, as though that thought never occurred to him.

“I guess so.”

“I know so,” Dave states, conviction in his voice. “It’s unacceptable.”

“It’s just how things are, though,” Casey says, resigned. He looks up at Dave again, and   
smiles. “It just means PFLAG is even better than the rest of the world.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dave nods. “I’m glad it helps. I mean, I wish... I wish we didn’t _need_ it.”

“Yeah,” Casey responds. “Oh, that’s my room.” He points at a doorway at the end of the hall. “I’m _so_ late!”

“Oh, Mr. Grecoe? I’ll talk to him.”

“Really?” Casey breathes, incredulous. “Wow, thank you, David! You’re...just, that’s so cool. That you’re helping me, I mean. Just, thank you, _so_ much.” He bounces up on the balls of his feet a little and then back down.

“You’re welcome,” Dave says gently, stopping just beside the door. “Listen, what’s your email?”

Casey blinks at him. “My email?”

“Yeah, your email,” Dave repeats, smiling again. “Are you Casey–um, whatever your last name is?–at gmail, or what?”

Casey’s nose wrinkles when he giggles. “O’Brien. But no, it’s not that. It’s rhinofishes at gmail dot com.”

“Rhinofishes? Like, rhinoceros plus fishes?” Dave clarifies.

“Yeah, I know, it’s dumb,” Casey explains. “It’s just, it’s a joke we had in middle school, and that’s when I got the email address, and now it’s on all my stuff and it’s easy to remember, so. You know. Rhinofishes.”

“Naw, I like it,” Dave assures him. “All right. Let’s get you into the last few minutes of pre-calculus, anyway.”

 

Dave shakes his head a little as he heads towards the parking lot. He’s heard the comments some of the glee kids make, how Casey reminds them of Kurt, and he guesses maybe he can understand why, but somehow Casey reminds Dave of _himself_ even more.

Being able to take action against that asshole Johannson–it was satisfying. Dave doesn’t like the things he used to do very much, but even he can admit that there is a difference between self-hatred and hating others, even if the results are so similar. But Johannson’s kind of hate, it was _good_ to do something about it. Good to let him know just why it wasn’t acceptable behavior.

Good to change what was acceptable at McKinley, one idiot at a time.

He sets his bag down in the backseat of his truck and grabs a pen and his notebook, scribbling down Casey’s email address before he forgets it. Casey needs people, that much is clear, and if Dave’s honest with himself, he’s a little bit lonely without Az. Dave could use a friend, too.

 

Casey can’t pay attention to the lecture on vectors. He’s too excitable, wriggling in his seat like a puppy. It’s been a day of extreme ups and downs, from the violent shove into the lockers in the morning to Finn and David’s rush out of PFLAG on his behalf, and it’s been capped off with a personal escort to class by David himself. David, who for some reason has decide Casey is worth his notice. Tall, strong, amazing, football-playing David, who wanted Casey’s email address, and seems to want to be Casey’s friend.

These days, Casey has so few friends. It’s hard enough keeping all the parts of his life separate from each other without adding more people to the mix. David, though...David already knows about some of the big parts of Casey’s life, and maybe Casey can keep the other stuff, the uglier stuff, from him and they can be friends.

He feels, a little embarrassingly, like Jimmy Olsen, but hey, Jimmy Olsen gets to hang out with _Superman_. Casey spends the last few minutes of class sketching David in a cape with a big D on his chest.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Rhinofishes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/877932) by [elemenoh_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemenoh_p/pseuds/elemenoh_p)




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